Mob-Girl 10
by Dru


Clarke Kent had missed his chopper ride home. Desperately calling for help
with the transmitter, he was having no luck. If the other Kryptonians had
been sent to planets like Earth there was a strong chance they had left
long ago.

      Then, as the list of contacts grew short, Clarke was successful. The
figure of a blond man appeared, a smile on his face.

      "Is that the son of Zorel?"

      "I'd just about given up on finding anyone."

      "What's the problem?"

      Clarke explained ths situation with relief to his fellow Kryptonian.

      "I'm leaving right now. I'll follow your signal to navigate, so don't
turn the transmitter off."

      "How long will it take you?"

      "I don't know. I've never travelled that far before."



Emily returned from her joy-flight just as the sun rose over Metropolis. As
the first light of day glowed on her body she felt the aches of eight-hours
constant flight disappear. Streaking through the gold hued clouds she came
down over a Daily Planet delivery van. Punching her small fist through the
roof and peeling back a section, Emily reached in to take a paper. As she
had hoped, Mob-Girl's assault on Fat Jimmy's bar was front page news.


      HORIFFIC GANGWAR GRIPS METROPOLIS

      Mob-Girl death toll grows overnight


      The photo pleased her. One of the people who had been blasted back
when she had taken out the second convoy of hitmen had obviously been
carrying a camera. It wasn't a very clear shot...the person had snapped it
from at least twenty feet in the air as they were accelerating away...but
Emily could be seen with her hands on her hips, a hint of a smile on her
puckered lips.

       Emily rose over the skyscrapers reading the arcticle. She was
surprised that Clark Kent hadn't written it himself, but the by-line
attributed the story to Lois Lane. Thinking it over, Emily realised this
meant Clark must have left Metropolis. It was the only explaination she
could think of. But where would he go, she wondered? To seek help from
another hero? But he had told the world himself that he was more powerful
than any one of them. At least he had been two days ago.

      As she passed the Daily Planet building, Emily checked Perry White's
office. The window was already fixed, and the trashed furniture replaced.
But Perry White was still in hospital, and would be for a very long time.
There was no point in asking him where Clark was, because the man was
incapable of speech and people with two broken arms can't write.

      Flying over Frank Forelli's Fashions, she looked in through the roof
to see him working away on designs. She landed on the sidewalk in front of
the door, which was still locked this early in the morning, and carefully
pushed it open with her hand.

      Floating through the building into the studio, she touched down
behind him.

      "Good Morning, Frank."

      He jumped, and turned around in anger. But his fury left him when he
realised who had startled him.

      "It's you..."

      "Have you got something to show me, Frank?"

      He stepped aside and closed several pages of his sketchbook to show
her his first drawing. It was a blue and red mini-skirt and short halter.

      "There is a lot of fabric. It's possible to make more than one
garment."

      "That great!" she told him, genuinely pleased. "How many have you
made so far?"

      "None," he replied, his eyes wandering over the lines of Emily's
magnetic curves.

      "And why not?" she asked, absently hoisting him by the chin.

      "I can't cut it!"

      Emily lowered him to the floor and looked back to the sketchbook. Off-
course he couldn't cut the stuff...it was invulnerable.

      "I might need lasers," the nervous man observed.

      "I don't think they would help at all."

      Giving it some thought she realised that it was up to her. Testing a
theory she had, she blasted the sleeve of the super-suit with her eyes. As
she intesified the beams, the area around the suit burst into flames. She
stopped, and blew the fire out.

      "We're going to have to this somewhere else," she told him. "Get your
book."

      As soon as he'd picked it up, Emily grabbed the startled designer and
moments later they were soaring over the mountains. Emily turned west, and
the coast soon passed below them.

      "Where are we going?" Forelli asked, his voice unstable.

      "A little island I spotted last time I was out this way."

      Landing on top of a dead chunk of rock surrounded by huge rolling
swells, Emily put her passenger down.

      "Let's cut it up. Show me how you want it done."

      Taking the supersuit to another small island nearby, Emily had the
job done in no time. Taking the pieces back to Frank, he showed her where
he would need holes made for the stitching. Using her super-speed she had
it all done in under two minutes, and was home again within an hour of
leaving.

      Flying Frank back into the studio she left him to complete his work
while she went home to check in.



Breaker was up with the sun, a fat cigar in his mouth, eggyoke and fat
cooling on his plate. He was feeling great. Being out of prison was like
being reborn. And the power he had his fingertips, thanks to his daughter,
still made him drool if he thought about it too long.

      "Mister Kirkland is here, Sir," the buttler informed him as he
removed the plate from the table. "Shall I send him in?"

      "I'll meet him in the smoking room."

      Dabbing out his cigar Carlos walked through into the smoking room and
sat down to wait. A moment later Kirkland entered.

      "Good morning, Boss."

      "Where's Rudall?" Breaker asked, realising that Kirkland was alone.

      "He'll be here later."

      "Have you seen the paper?" Carlos waved his hand at the coffee table.
"We're celebrities."

      "You mean I'm a celebrity."

      Emily, dressed one of her old casual outfits, walked gracefully into
the room. Kirkland was sure her feet weren't quite touching the ground.

      "Good morning, Emily," Carlos greeted her warmly. "Did you sleep
well?"

      "I didn't sleep at all. I'm not tired. What are we doing today?"

      Carlos grinned. "I like your attitude. Straight to the point."

      "I feel so great, Dad. Let's rob a bank or something..."

      "Whoah. I'm not into that armed robbery shit anymore."

      "Then who can we take down?"

      "I've got a fair idea we can take down any mutherfucker we
want...pardon the French. But I have to wait to hear Rudall's report.
Whoever adds up to be the greatest leech on my empire will die today."

      "Where's Rudall, then?" Emily demanded, taking a cigar out. "I don't
see him anywhere."

      "He's working on the report. He should be here anytime soon."

      "I hate that saying," Carlos grumbled. "Anytime soon can be said a
thousand times before anyone shows up."

      Emily tried to light the cigar with her eyes, incinerating the whole
thing. Picking out another she tried again and managed to get it burning
without destroying it.

      "Well," she declared, "If he's not here by the time I finish this
cigar, I'm going out." Putting the Cuban to her lips, she drew back on it.
Both Carlos and Kirkland were already dazzled by the manner in which she
sparked up. But when she puffed the long thick cigar down to a short stub
in one go, filling her lungs with smoke, their eyes widened further.

      "He's not here," she observed. Taking her fingers away and holding
the short butt with her lips, she drew back, taking the smoke deep into her
lungs once again. Emily sucked the cherry in between her lips and blew the
ash it left behind away in a cloud of dark smoke. "I'm out of here."

      "When will you be back?" her father asked, picking out a fresh cigar
of his own.

      "I'll keep my eyes out for Rudall. When he gets here, I'll come
home."

      As she walked out Carlos caught Kirkland staring at her ass.

      "Hey! Who the fuck do you think your perving on, Marcus?"

      "Sorry, Boss. But I couldn't help it."

      At least Kirkland was an honest criminal. Carlos had employed him for
twelve years and never once had the man lied to him.

      "Back to business. Let's go outside and you can fill me on on the
money situation."



Rudall had finished the report before three in the morning. When Kirkland
had come looking for him he'd been sleeping. It had been easy to convince
Marcus that there was still work to do, leaving Rudall the chance to get
out while he still could. He knew Carlos would want Chinese blood today.
Their heroin was flooding the market and bringing prices down as more and
more suppliers abbandoned Lehay's Colombian imports.

      While Carlos had sat waiting for breakfast, Rudall was at the airport
waiting to board his flight to Gotham. He had been forced to charter a
flight, because there wasn't a plane headed that way until after
lunchtime...and by lunchtime Rudall would be as dead as Fat Jimmy. The
expense of hiring a pilot and renting his cessna was of little concern to
Rudall, since he had been filtering large sums of Breaker's money slowly
into a bank account he'd opened in Barcelona. The payments he was taking to
distribute Chinese merchandise through Breaker's old dealers were nothing
compared to his generous imbezzlements.

      They had taken off just about the time Kirkland got to the compound,
and were now well underway. The tubulence was nearly bad enough to abondon
the trip, but Rudall's pilot was an iron-bellied dare-devil. The scruffy
man laughed as Rudall turned a pale shade of green in the first ten
minutes.

      "Don't worry man," he assured his passenger. We'll be there in a few
hours."




      There was storm rolling in off the ocean as Emily rose over the city.
She checked on Forelli, and found he still had a lot to do. Stretching her
deceptively powerful body she flew down over Rudall's house and looked
inside. There was no-one there. Remebering Rudall drove a blue Viper, Emily
flew above the powerlines and followed the road all the way to her fathers
compound, but didn't see Rudall anywhere.

      "Where could he be?" she wondered. Checking her father's bank and the
police stations turned up nothing. Rudall's Viper wasn't in the impound
yard or anywhere else Emily could think of. Getting an idea, she rocketed
upward until she could see the entire city, suburb to suburb. Combining her
superspeed and enhanced eyes, she darted her gaze methodically back and
forth over Metropolis. Emily found several blue Vipers, and a moment later
she read Rudall's custom plates.

      "There you are!" she declared at last, zooming on the airport parking
garage. But why was Rudall at the airport? Emily experimented more with her
eyes, exploring the airport in great detail looking for Rudall's ugly face.
Searching floor by floor she found no sign of him anywhere. Checking again
more thoroughly proved to be a wasted minute.

      "If he's not there then must already be in a plane," Emily decided
after giving it a moments thought. Smiling, she realised that he couldn't
be very far away even if he was, and she plummeted below ten thousand feet
to check each plane one by one. With the weather turning bad there weren't
many planes in the air, and it only took a moment for Emily to find who she
was looking for.

      "What the fuck is going on?" she wondered, closing in on the Cessna
at her leisure.


      "This reminds me," the pillot was saying, "Of the time I flew my
commanding officer into Vagas back in the eighties."

      "You were in the Air-Force?" Rudall asked, glad for the distracting
conversation.

      "Got my license there when I was young. Flew all kinds of birds. But
I gotta tell you, that old C-130 was a lot smoother ride through a storm.
These old Cessna's are workhorses too, don't get me wrong, but they're so
much lighter."

      "How much further to Gotham?"

      "We only just started, man. We should clear the storm soon. If we fly
around sixteen thousand feet we should have a smoother ride."

      Rudall looked out the window as the plane finally came through the
clouds and into the dazzling sunlight above. A sea of rolling cloud
surrounded him as far as he could see, but as the Cessna rose higher and
higher over the storm he began to spot the edges.

      "Beautiful isn't it?"



Emily agreed. Listening in on them as she flew along directly above them in
one of the planes' blind spots. The slow Cessna didn't remotely challenge
her ability to fly. Winds that blew the plane around over the place didn't
affect the slim super-villian nearly so much. She could blow harder gales
through her nostrils.

      Several possibilites opened up for her as Emily decided how to get
Rudall home to her father. She decided just to carry the whole plane back
with her, knowing it must weigh a lot less than the Black-hawk she had
captured last night.

      Wanting Rudall to know who was taking control of the Cessna, Emily
closed the gap between them and flew in under the wing.



Rudall was fighting down his nausea, even though they had it a bit easier
now he could still feel the plane moving about with the wind. He had his
gaze wandering out over the sea of cloud to take his mind off his motion
sickness. When Mob-Girl's face appeared outside his window, he screamed.

      "Ahhhh!"

      Then Rudall grabbed the bucket while the pilot jiggled a finger in
his ear.

      "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?"

      "Didn't you see her?" Rudall demanded, wiping vomit off his lower
lip.

      "Whoever she was, she sure must'a' been ugly."

      "Maybe I was just dreaming," Rudall thought. He was drunk on fatigue,
so it wasn't too surprising that his mind was playing tricks on him.

      Rudall was given little time to entertain this train of thought. The
plane jarred, which was not unusual. Rudall's chill came from the
unervingly smooth motion of the plane afterward.

      "Hey, something's wrong here," the pilot remarked, controls in his
hands becoming unresponsive as the plane lurched to the left.

      "It's Mob-Girl."

      "Bullshit. I don't buy into that crap."

      "You will."

      The plane turned tightly around, slamming the occupants into the
side. Then the pilot was reminded of flying F-18's as they accelerated back
toward Metropolis. Robbed of fuel and air the engine stalled as the scenery
became a blur to the helpless passengers. The Cessna threatened to tear
itself apart as it flashed back into the sea of cloud, and came out under
it north of the city. The storm was behind them when they flew down over
the sun-drenched upper-class properties, decelerating to hover over one of
the larger mansions.



Carlos was drinking his first bourbon of the day and listening with cunning
ears while Kirkland gave him a thorough run-down on the power situation.
The news was mostly bad, as he had known it would be. Every organisation
had their fingers in Breaker's pie. The experienced criminal leader was
about to curse Rudall's tardiness for the umpteenth time that morning when
a shadow fell across his tidy lawn.

      "What the..."

      Carlos looked up, and saw his daughter wave at him while she held up
a small aircraft with her other hand. He blinked his eyes a few times, and
looked up again. She was gone. While he had cleared his vision she had
floated down to the lawn nearby and was then carefully lowering the
slightly damaged plane to the trimmed grass.

      "You'll never guess what I found." Emily walked up to Rudall's door
and scrunched the panel in her hand. Smiling with the ease of it, Emily
pulled the door off and reached in for the mesmerized man. She walked
across the lawn holding him casually off the ground by the back of the
neck.

      "Rudall?" Carlos asked in confusion. "What were you doing in that
plane?"

      He remained silent as Emily dropped him in a seat and stood back with
hands on her hips.

      "The pilot might know something," Kirkland suggested, trying
unsuccessfully to take his eyes off his boss's energetically gourgeous
daughter.

      Emily launched twenty feet and came down on the far side of the
plane. The pilot was too bedazzled to move as she removed his door and
snapped his harness with her fingers. She flew him slowly over to the chair
next to Rudall, and landed behind them.



Looking around at the four men, Emily realised that only her father didn't
have an erection. She was in complete control here, and she knew it. While
her father asked questions, and Rudall's betrayal and attempted escape came
out, Emily was giving serious thought to a little betrayal of her own. What
did she need with her father? She was the only source of his power now.
While Rudall spilled his guts, Emily was thinking about what she could do
if she went solo.



"Well, you have been busy," Carlos observed to Rudall. Then he turned his
scowl on Kirkland. "I'm disapointed in you Kirkland. You should have known
about this."

      "But Boss I..."

      "It's alright. I still trust you, Marcus." Looking back at Rudall,
Carlos shook his head. "I can't trust you, though. Can I?"

      "I thought you were finished."

      "So you started the 'Save Rudall Fund'?"

      Rudall looked at the floor.

      "How much have you spent?"

      "I bought a villa in the Riveria. A few parties. Most of it's still
in the bank."

      "I want all back, Rudall. Just give me the account numbers and I'll
have Kirkland take care of it for you. In the meantime I want to know who i
can take my anger out on. Who's sucking my money the most, besides you?"

      "The Chinese. Hung Hyi to be more specific. He's the one who
approached Leo and turned him. He got to me too. The man has more money
than the government."

      "How much did you cost, Rudall?" Kirkland asked, angered by his
friends betrayal.

      "It was enough. More money than I'd made in the last ten years. Sure
I took it. If you had've stayed in prison the empire would've callapsed in
another three months. We'd all be dead. So I was looking out for myself for
a change."

      "You didn't do a very good job of that," Emily observed, playfully
starting small fires on his clothes. "Look at the situation you're in now."

      "Let's all go see this Hung Hyi," Carlos told everyone, rising to his
feet. "When I'm though with him, They'll have to call him Just Hyi."

      Emily stepped closer to the pilot. "I'll catch up. We don't need this
guy tagging along so I'll just take care of him."



Watching her father and his two colleagues walk toward the house, Emily
smiled at the man who had been flying Rudall's plane. He was sweating in
the shade, and shifting uncomfortably as she dominated his personal space.

      "What are we going to do with you?"

      "Please," he begged. "I don't even know the guy! I don't even know
who you are!"

      "Get in your plane."

      He looked at her in confusion. Emily didn't waste time repeating
herself, and hoisted him from his chair with a finger wrapped in his
collar. Hovering across the lawn to the plane, she tossed him in Rudall's
seat. Crouching down, Emily rose with the plane above her and carried it
high into the sky above Metropolis. Looking up through the belly of the
plane she could see him strapping into the seat  and had to laugh as he
grappled with the controls.

      Wanting to get back before her father left the compound, Emily went
out over the ocean a little faster than she should have. She watched the
man sink further and further in his seat as rivets started to pop out of
the airframe.  A wing tore off, taking a section of roof with it. The other
soon followed as Emily steadily increased her speed. The pilot died when
the plane suddenly exploded, the fuel reaching critical temperature.

      Dropping the flaming wreckage into the ocean, Emily flew back to
Metrolpolis, able to travel many times faster without her fragile cargo.
Carlos was still shaving, so she went to see Forelli. Surely he must have
finished one of her outfits by now.