W A R N I N G

This story contains material of a sexual nature. It has explicit
descriptions of sex, bondage and non-consensual sex. If you are at all
offended by this kind of story. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!!!!!!

Any characters in this story are the property of Star Girl and the author,
excluding Wonder Woman, who is the property of DC comics. This story is
written for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not written for profit
and cannot be transmitted, reproduced or otherwise traded for profit.

                           For Want of a Nail...
By Jason Thorn, Chastant@ix.netcom.com


For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.

Jason sat back against the wall, a Scorpion submachine gun in his hands,
and wondered where this mad scene could be traced to.

Jason Thorn was a normal guy with a few secrets. In a world like this, with
costumed villains and heroes flying or running all over Creation, everyone
had at least one or two, right?

He had heard about the Metagene, the DNA Magic Trick. It could make you
into a superhero, if you had it. Jason knew he didn't have it, knew it even
before his military service, when they tested him for everything, including 
the Metagene (hey, why not have a super soldier sign up without making
sure he WAS a super soldier?) and in all honesty, he hadn't even cared.

But that was something that had nothing to do with his life, before, now,
or ever. He had other secrets. One or two of them were important. But his
main focus was getting on with his life.

He was a comedian. And a good one. He had been a fair soldier, a lousy
college man, but a good comedian. He knew how to make people laugh, and he
could even do it without insulting people. It wasn't a high-paying job, and
he wasn't going to retire when he turned 30 in a few years, but it PAID THE
BILLS. As long as something filled that need, he was cool with it.

But if he hadn't bought that extra suit, none of this would have happened.

For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.

The suit was a good suit--one of the Armani ones, good style, the cut was
perfect, and the suit was slightly used, which meant it only cost... Five
hundred dollars. More than a week's salary.

But, he had a credit card. A brand-new one, one of those 'pre- approved'
ones. Easy credit terms, it said. Lucifer himself never said it so sweetly.

So, he bought the suit. It was a good suit, and it got him into some of the
nicer comedy clubs. He even pulled a James Bond sketch out of it one night.

For want of a horse, a knight was lost.

He got the credit card bill two months later.

If they didn't send him 75 dollars, they would turn him over to the
friendly collection agency.

He looked at the card once, fumed, and fired off a payment for the minimum
amount.

BEFORE his paycheck came. The paycheck with $150 dollars missing from it.
"So sorry, we'll cut you a new check in four days," they said. Which would
have been all right, if one did not take into account that if the check he
had just written for the credit card went through the day after today, it
would bounce like those ten-cent rubber balls that went a mile high.

So he had to go to the bank TODAY, cash in one of his CDs, and cover the
amount before the payment check came through.

For want of a knight, an army was lost.

He drove to the bank, parked in one of the rear parking spaces, and went
in. He had an hour to spare before reporting to the Improv for the two acts
he had scheduled for tonight, as well as for the rest of the week.

He had plenty of time, he thought.

The bank agent sat down with him, made clucking noises over the penalty
of early withdrawal. Jason said he didn't really care, they could take it
out of the value of the CD, but could they please do it today, to clear the
deposit to his bank? The agent replied that yes, they could, Jason said,
"Do it," and waited while the agent prepared a deposit slip for him to
sign. After he signed, he asked, "Is that it?"

When the agent nodded, Jason excused himself to go to the Little Comedian's
Room.

For want of an army, the battle was lost.

Two seconds after he zipped up, he heard someone fire off a shotgun in the
bank.

He looked outside as the lights flickered. One person lay dead, with most
of his head missing. The tellers, his agent, and six or seven customers
were being herded to one end of the bank. None of them looked pleased at
this new development to the working day.

Then one came in his direction.

He closed the door, then backed against the wall behind the door.

The door opened, hiding him from sight, and a man with a submachine gun
walked in, spraying the toilet cubicles with bullets. Jason had enough time
to realize that the ch-ch-ch-chuff of the gun meant it had a silencer
before the man started turning.

Jason would be visible in the space of a heartbeat.

Jason didn't think, he just acted. He shoved hard against the closing door,
striking the man in the shoulder. He dropped the gun, turned around in
surprise and Jason kicked him squarely in the testicles. The gunman gave
out a noise that sounded like the squeal of a frightened child, clutched
his groin with both hands, and passed out from the excruciating pain.

For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost.

Which put him where he was now.

"And the kingdom was lost, for want of a nail," he muttered, then peered
through the space between the door and the jamb.

There were three other people. One was watching the hostages, and two were
entering the vault itself. Had they emptied out the tellers already?

Then he heard a quiet whimper through the wall, coming from the other
restroom.

He made sure the gunman was looking away before he slipped into the door
marked WOMEN. He did not see anyone upon immediate entry, but he did see a
pair of legs under one of the stall doors. The woman's pants were down.

"Ma'am..." he began, and the woman started screaming. *Oh, lord, what a
screwup THIS is!* he thought, and yelled, "SHUT UP!" The woman fell silent
in an instant, then began to blubber, "Don't kill me, please, please
don't..."

Jason groaned. "I'm not going to kill you," then added, hoping it would
help, "I'm the police."

The quiet sobbing stopped, and the woman stepped out of the stall. "You
ARE...?" she asked, her eyes wet. "You don't LOOK like a cop," she added in
a strange, neutral voice Jason attributed to shock.

"I'm undercover, all right?" Jason looked down at the woman's feet, then
added, "Please pull up your pants."

She looked down, gave a small "Eep!" and quickly yanked up her pants. "What
are you going to do?" she asked, as she tucked her shirt in.

Jason halted. What WAS he going to do?

He thought for a moment. He had studied anti-terrorist tactics for three
months, and he tried to figure this situation out.

"I'm going to have to work fast. There's another guy out there, and two
more in the vault. I may have to shoot one or all of them. If you can't
handle it, stay here. All right?"

She nodded, then inquired, "What will you do?"

He chanced a glance through the crack of the door, and saw that the other
two were still in the vault. "If they don't give up, they're all going to
Warp Factor Nine, I'll say that much," he said, and stepped out into the
bank proper.

He held up the weapon, aiming it for the robber's head, and yelled,
"Freeze!"

Star Girl, in her current guise as Jamie Prince, was just stepping out of
the florist's shop when her 'special' beeper went off.

She frowned, then drew it out from her purse, examining the liquid- crystal
display. It read,

Jamie realized with sudden clarity that that location was two blocks
away...and that Sarah, her cousin, had gone to get 'money from the bank for
brunch.'

And 'Cas.' was short for Casualty.

She let go of the balloon bouquet, which drifted lazily into the sky, and
set off for the bank at a dead run.

The man froze, but only for a second. Then, he was turning around, bringing
his weapon up to bear, and Jason shot him with one quiet 'chuff' of his
weapon. The man shuddered, then dropped bonelessly to the floor. The
hostages, shocked into silence, could only watch as Jason stepped forward,
his body shrouded by the sudden darkness of the failed light fixtures.

He pointed to the door, then said, "Go," in a quiet voice.

No one needed to be told twice.

Jason moved back to the women's restroom, then opened the door. "Go on, get
out of here!" he barked, and the woman ran past him and out the door in an
eyeblink.

Which was one second before the other two crooks left the vault, carrying
two plastic bags.

They stopped when they beheld a scenario that had not dreamed would occur:
one of their own, dead on the floor; no hostages left in the area; and
there was a guy, standing near the island in the center of the spacious
room, holding a gun on them.

"Don't move," the man warned them.

They looked at each other, then dropped the sacks, whipping out guns that
were identical twins of the one Jason held.

The first few cans of tear gas came through the plate-glass doors ten
seconds later. When one exited after 30 seconds, the SWAT team went in,
guns drawn.

Jamie Prince arrived on the scene, and immediately saw Sarah being
interrogated by two policemen. "Sarah!" she cried out. Sarah spotted her,
slipped out from between her interrogators, and rushed to Jamie, crying in
great whooping jags. Jamie looked up and saw SWAT cops leaving the bank,
calling out, "We got a live one! He's hurt bad!"

Sarah looked up. "Is it him?"

"Who, him? What are you talking about?" Jamie asked, concerned and
confused.

"The guy! The one who saved us all!" she blurted, looking at the smoking
bank doors. Jamie looked towards them as well, not quite knowing what she
was talking about.

But the man they brought our was dressed all in black, wore a vest with
many pockets, and was walking with a tell-tale awkwardness. Sarah said
quietly, "That's one of THEM, the robbers. Where's HE?"

Jason had heard the canisters pop through the front door, so he decided to
leave. He was late, he didn't like the idea of having to answer a lot of
question, and his hand hurt like hell.

In the end, he fired a few quick shots through the drive-thru windows on
the opposite side of the bank, and jumped through the hole, landing hard on
his back. He got up, scanning the area for police. Finding none, he bolted
to his car, hiding the gun under the Armani jacket with limited
success...but enough until he could get in, turn the key, and drive away
unnoticed. By the time the SWAT team had burst in, he was already a
quarter- mile away, driving three miles below the speed limit.

He looked down at his suit, which was flecked with dust and shattered
glass. "For want of a nail...or a suit..." he said sourly, then shoved the
Scorpion under the passenger seat.

He was going to be late. But if he was lucky, they would draw out the
opening act for a few minutes longer...

Jamie was will observing the circus going on at the bank when a few members
of the Squad showed up.

They were a loose collection of superheroic women who occasionally worked
together. They were not an official 'supergroup,' really...just a bunch of
good friends who happened to be heroines. Sometimes, they would all show
up, especially for large-scale problems, but there were times when they
were working hard just to keep in touch. Star Girl had met a few of them,
but not every one, and seldom in a group.

The one in charge of the trio that showed up was Mystery. She was true to
her pseudonym, for no one really knew what her past was like. She was an
illusionist without peer, able to conjure up illusions of any type, either
pleasing or unpleasant to the extreme, depending on the situation. She was
previously a loner, but had come to learn that a group could survive better
than someone working alone. She had been a stage magician before the
Metagene manifested in her, and her skills at misdirection, distraction,
and drawing the notice of others at the right time were as proficient in
handling criminals and villains as her powers of illusion.

The next one that did show up was something of a troublemaker... namely,
The Lynx. She had no real name (not one pronounceable by human throats) and
was simply called Lynx. She cut an imposing figure--seven feet tall,
covered in short, tawny fur, with tapered ears, feline eyes, a thick
three-foot tail that was strong enough to knock down the unwary, and a
capricious nature that ranged from capricious to furious, with many stops
in between. She wasn't human by any stretch of the imagination--she was a
member of a race of felinoids that ran things for about 50 star systems on
the opposite end of the galaxy. The reason she was here was that her astro-
navigation system malfunctioned, zigging her when it should have zagged
her, and sent her through a black hole into the Sol system, probably
through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge event. When she crash-landed, she thought
she had arrived at what her race thought of as a pleasure planet. The only
problem was that her race thought a place where one could hunt for prey as
long as they wanted as a 'pleasure planet.' She was caught by two African
heroes, Ghost Warrior and Congo, who sent her to be 're-educated' by a
missionary doctor. He had been the one to name her 'Lynx,' and appealed to
the United Nations to take her under their wing, since she was a traveler
from another world. They had debated and deliberated, giving the missionary
time to teach Lynx about the world around her. She was voracious for
learning as she was for hunting, and by the time she was given a chance to
speak on her own behalf, she had mastered the English language, and had
requested a place to stay while she figured out what had gone wrong in her
navigation. Finding that the United States appealing to her sense of
survival, she chose to stay. The U.N. had relocated her and her ship to
Mystery's care, and she behaved herself...until she came into her mating
period. For her race, that lasted roughly ten months out of the year, so
she would be a handful to control at times, when her hormonal urges created
bouts of what Lynx called 'creativity.' Such creativity manifested itself
in displays that ranged from chasing muggers ("To see how they feel being
the prey," she explained) to destroying property (walls, trees, furniture)
to see which helped to sharpen her claws the fastest. She was a capable
woman to have in a fight, and was fiercely loyal to her fellow Squad
members, so her creativity was tolerated...mostly.

The third was Solaria, a woman who thoroughly enjoyed being a heroine. She
first came to Mystery's attention when there was a sudden rash of would- be
rapists started showing up at emergency rooms throughout the city, each
complaining about being beaten up, but would refuse to say who did it. She
suspected a common ground about all of them, and traced the attacks to a
part of the city where all of the attacks happened within a region of six
square blocks. She was lucky enough to happen upon an actual rape scene on
her third night of surveillance. She was almost ready to step in when she
had noticed the look of absolute calm on the victim's face, and hesitated.
Three minutes later, the rapist looked exhausted, while the would-be victim
looked stronger than ever...and then, the victim got up, composed herself
while the attacker looked on in shock, then casually picked him up and
threw him into a dumpster...from a quarter-mile away. Mystery approached
her later and found that the woman absorbed kinetic energy and used it to
enhance her own strength and endurance. What is more, she purposefully was
traveling at night to ATTRACT the attention for rapists, who she held a
special hatred for. Suspecting that this activity might turn around on the
young woman, Mystery offered a membership in the Squad. She accepted,
giving her name as Solaria, and proved to be a capable fighter. She would
usually go toe-to-toe with villains, absorbing their blows to build up her
strength, and then turn on them with surprising force.

Mystery moved off to one side, examining the building, which was still
issuing smoke from air vents and broken windows. Lynx was, as usual, a
bundle of energy, moving around the periphery on the building, sniffing
delicately to pick up any scents--however, the proximity of the tear gas
was screwing up her olfactory senses, and she looked as though she was
getting frustrated. Solaria walked towards the man who appeared to be the
officer in charge, and collected his full attention...then again, it was
probably the white bodysuit that he noticed first...

Jamie sidled over to Mystery, looking like a star-struck pedestrian. As
she got close, she whispered, "Hi. Glad you could make it."

Mystery turned, then nodded. "What do the witnesses say?"

"Some of them said one of the crooks turned on his team-mates and
slaughtered them. But, Sarah over there says it looked like a police
officer that did it...at least, she said the man identified himself as a
policeman." Jamie indicated Sarah, who was still being debriefed by a
uniformed officer.

Mystery examined her, then nodded thoughtfully. "Can she describe him?"

Jamie frowned. "Not well. She said he had dark hair and wore casual
clothes, but she was still pulling her pants up, she says." As Mystery
opened her mouth, Jamie added quickly, "Don't ask. It's a long story, and
it may look suspicious as it is now, me talking to you. But she says it was
a blur, all happening in an instant. For all she knows, it was Pierce Brosnan 
that did it all."

Mystery shook her head, then inclined her head slightly as Lynx padded up.
"Find anything?"

Lynx answered in a low growl, "No! Theirrrr damfool gassss issss ffffouling
the placccce. A herrrrd of wild Barrrranas could have sssstampeded
thrrrrough herrrre and I could not ffffind wherrrre they went!" She looked
angry, and sounded it--when she started slurring her letters, she was
getting emotional. Her claws on her hands and feet were extending and
sheathing by their own accord, another sign of her foul mood.

Mystery replied, "Well, nothing to be done about that. Better keep away
from the building until the tear gas dissipates."

Lynx scowled, but nodded, moving back to sit in one of the patrol cars
surrounding the bank, the shocks creaking as it supported her weight.

Mystery sighed. "I swear..." she broke off as she noticed Solaria walking
towards them. "I hope you have good news, Solaria."

Solaria shook her head. "Not much. No one can agree on a description of the
one who got them out. But a lot of them don't think he was one of the
crooks, because no one recognized him. And from what the police say, all of
the money that is supposed to be in there is still in there, so none of it
was taken by this guy. They think he busted through the drive-up window to
escape detection, and it worked. There are some tire tracks, but they won't
give us anything except the fact that he was driving one of maybe 60 or 70
types of sedan on the road. Not much to go on. We can have Superconductor
go to work on it."

Mystery nodded. Superconductor was another one of the core members of the
group. Not only could she control electricity, but could also control most
technological devices by her will alone. She was also a hacker and
technician by trade. If anyone could take raw data and find the answer,
Superconductor could.

Jamie looked up as Sarah started walking over to them, still looking
shaken. As much as Sarah knew, Jamie knew Mystery when she had been rescued
from a fate worse than death by Mystery (which was a care- fully fabricated
half-truth--Mystery had rescued her, but she had been Star Girl at the
time) and Sarah didn't need to see the whole truth. Besides, it made
interacting with the group easier. "Sarah," Jamie began, "how are you
doing?"

Sarah whispered, "'Lright. Can we g'home now?"

Jamie looked to Mystery, then said, "Sure. What do you say we go out
tonight and forget this whole mess happened?"

Sarah's eyes developed a little life at this proposal. "Sure...how 'bout
that Improv place? The comedy club?"

Jamie nodded. "Go to the car. It's at the parking garage across the street.
I'll be right behind you."

After Sarah walked off, Jamie muttered, "I'll try to keep an eye on her,
see if she needs to stay home from work or not."

Solaria nodded. "I might want to check out that club. I could use a good
laugh myself. I'll check out the times and call you later, okay?"

Jamie nodded, then waved goodbye and ran to catch up with Sarah.



                       For Want of a Nail...Part Two

Exactly two hours after he barreled out of a parking lot with a smoking gun
and shattered glass on his suit, Jason Thorn left the stage and escaped to
his temporary room, slumping in a chair and sighing heavily.

No matter what his luck had been earlier, it had improved tremendously.
His last performance had been spot-on: no hecklers, no spaces of silence
that would show up whenever a joke fell flat, no missed punchlines, and no
stumbles up on stage. It had been...well, damn near perfect.

It almost made him forget the entire bad scene at the bank. Almost.
But...there was the matter of the Scorpion, which was under his seat. It
had to be disposed of, and soon. He wasn't wearing gloves, so he needed to
clean it thoroughly before dumping it anywhere. Selling it was not
feasible, since he had no idea where he could fence hardware like that. His
best bet was to dump it in the nearest, largest body of water he could
find...stripped down, if he could manage it. Let the fish worry about gun
oil pollution...

There was a knock at the door.

For one absurd minute, he thought it would be Clyde, the manic club owner
from the Lipton Cool commercial. *Sure. He'd come in, jittery as a cat in a
dog show, and stutter, "You gotta go back OUT there, Jason, those fans are
going c-c-c-CRAzy!"*

"Come in," he said quietly.

The one who came in, though was a fat, balding man, chomping on an
expensive cigar. Havana cigars, Jason thought. Some may like them, but they
smelled TERRIBLE to him. "Jason, I gotta tell you, you looked great out
there, no lie, no lie. Some guy wanted you to autograph this pic of his."
The fat man handed him an 8 x 10 glossy of a smiling Jason Thorn. Jason
couldn't remember this guy's name to save his life, so he simply signed it
without a word and handed it back to the man.

"Thanks, Jason. Ya think you can do it again for the 9 pm crowd?"

Jason sighed. "Sure. Just give me another 25 minutes, and I'll be ready."

"Good...cause you have 30 before I need ya up there again." Then the fat
man was gone, the smell of cigar smoke filling the air.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, then looked at the ceiling, trying to
marshal his strength. The second show of the night was supposed to be
easier, but he was having a hard time concentrating. The entertainment
critic from the DAILY PLANET was supposed to come by tonight, to get a good
idea of his show so he could publish it. He heard the rumor that a talent
scout from Gotham City would be attending sometime in the next week. "That
could be worth something," he said out loud.

a quiet voice whispered in his mind.

Jason shook his head. "Here, they've got Gotham City and Metropolis. Not
like before."

He had to stop thinking about that. He had a show to do.

In 24 minutes...

Jamie and Sarah got out of the car in time for Jamie to see three figures
alight on the top of a two-story building across the street, two fliers,
one of them carrying a burly third person. It was dark, but she
instinctively knew who they were--Solaria carrying Lynx, and Mystery beside
her.

She turned back to see Sarah eyeing her. "What is it?"

"Thought I saw someone..." Jamie said, then shook her head. "Never mind,
it's gone now..."

Her voice suddenly trailed off as she spotted a familiar figure in the
crowd.

Diana!

She fought to keep from leaping over the mass of heads between them, but
she could not hide the smile on her face as she waved to her, trying to
catch her attention. After a few frantic seconds, Diana spotted her and
moved back towards Jamie and Sarah. As she reached them, she embraced Jamie
chastely, then gave Sarah a good-natured hug. "Hi! How are you two doing?"
she asked, smiling broadly.

"Doing quite well, thank you," Jamie replied, restraining the urge to
caress her lover's body. In their secret guises, they were simply sisters
who were also good friends.

"I got saved by a cop today!" Sarah piped up. Diana looked to Sarah, then
to Jamie. "Is this true?"

"Well," Jamie admitted, "we're not sure yet. A bank was in the process of
being robbed when someone stepped in and foiled it. The police think it was
one of the criminals getting greedy, but I don't think so..."

"Neither do we," Mystery (in the guise of her alter ego, Christine
Sturgill) added, as she was followed by Solaria (as Cheryl Lynn) and Lynx
(who had no alter ego, but was shielded by one of Mystery's illusions, and
appeared to everyone else as a female bodybuilder). They all seemed glad to
get out for one night, instead of tracking down some villain-du-jour.

"Hello, Chris," Jamie said, smiling, but her eyes were wary. 'No Shop
Talk,' they warned. "Glad to see you all could make it."

"It beat staying home," Cheryl said, then looked at the line. "That is a
long line." Then, she grinned, holding up eight tickets. "Good thing I paid
in advance."

Diana looked pleased, as did everyone else who saw a way into the club
without having to wait forever in the line to the ticket counter. They all
trooped in as a group, bypassing the marquee next to the ticket booth.

They all sat down at one of the larger tables, and ordered food and drinks
all around.

"The show starts in ten minutes," Sarah said, looking around the club area,
which was filling up rapidly. "Has anyone seen this comedian? I haven't,
but I hear he's supposed to be good."

Solaria added wryly, "He's also supposed to be good-looking, *I* hear. If
he is as funny as he is good-looking, this could be either a great show, or
a terrible one...and I don't think he'd be terrible to draw this kind of a
crowd."

"Good," Diana replied simply.

"Five minutes to show time," a voice called through the door.

Jason heard, stood up, readied himself.

Always, before every performance, he had to make sure his voice would come
out clear and clean, loud enough to reach everyone. He tested his voice
every time with a poem he had read in a book of horror stories. It was a
moderately difficult poem to say clearly, in spite of its brevity. If it
came out slurred, he wasn't ready...

"He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees six
ghosts," he said, each syllable coming out clear and sharp.

He was ready.

He walked out of the dressing room, towards the wings of the stage.

He stopped, listening to the warm-up act. The guy wasn't bad, but his
timing needed work.

As the guy bowed, Jason readied himself.

Two seconds after the warm-up exited to the left, the emcee began in on the
Pitch.

"Thank you, Roger Gomez. Now, I know you are all waiting for this one..."

Jamie tuned out the spiel, looking to Diana covertly, her hand moving under
the table to touch Diana's, caressing it gently. The touch of her lover
never failed to send pleasurable chills along her body, and she hoped it
would never stop creating such sensations...

"...and here he is, live, JASONNNNNNNN THORN!"

A rousing musical number started up as the comedian entered from stage
right. She appraised him, and realized that he wasn't bad-looking. In fact,
for a man, his looks were quite striking. He didn't have model-class looks,
but he had a erect stance, a strong chin, a shock of black hair on his
head, and a muscular body, if his arms were any adequate indication. He had
an aura of ENERGY about him...

The comedian bowed to the emcee, then to the audience. As the clamor died
down, he cocked one eye, and opened with a dead-on impression of Elvis,
"Thank ya, thank ya ver' muuuch." He looked out over the crowd, looking as
pleased as punch to be here, with everyone watching. He crooked a smile,
then looked around the room once more. No hecklers-to-be, just waiting for
him to flub his lines. No one who looked as though the occasional swear
would put them into a coma.

No military types. That made it easy.

Jason launched into his act.

"Thank you, thank you. Thank you for coming here tonight, and let's have a
hand for the Improv crew here. Can they make a good salad or what?" That
produced a smattering of applause. "Isn't it great to be here in Metro-
polis?" A cheer from natives of Metropolis. "I mean, if Superman is out
there, listening in, it's a great place, thanks to you. I mean, who else
can do what you do and be dignified enough to wear what you wear?" A low
mass chuckle. Tough crowd. "I, personally, couldn't do it. What man do YOU
know who could run around...okay, FLY around...in a suit that seems
designed to advertise a guy's genital heft?" A louder chuckle. "Now, Supes,
if you're listening...and you could be..." Chuckles in the audience.
"...don't get on me for this, but there are a lot of women I've met who've
seen you in uniform and thought, "Nice S...!" Louder, almost full laughter,
more feminine than masculine. "Now, I may be in shape, but some of the
costumes today that these heroes wear, I couldn't wear those without
feeling self-conscious." Pause. "But if I could lift battleships
one-handed, you can BET I'D be secure enough to wear a getup like that!"
Laughter now, warming to the act. "And the ones the FEMALES wear?" Waving
one hand next to his face in a cooling-off gesture. "Don't get me started.
There's this one in California who is wearing nothing but a red bikini and
patrols the waterways. I actually read that she can SWIM fifty miles an
hour! They're calling her the BayWatcher." Laughter, subdued. "Okay, enough
about that. Here's something that popped into my head a little while ago.
Suppose there was a world that had...no...superheroes? Think about that
one, very carefully, folks." Jason's voice was low and dramatic. "No
heroes. No villains. No aliens. Can you imagine that? I mean, there'd be a
LOT of things that are different from our world. For instance...you
wouldn't have all these interruptions by these villains, wanting you to
give up or they'll destroy the world. You'd have to get NORMAL people to do
that..." he mused thoughtfully, as his audience began getting into the
premise of it. "Well, maybe those wouldn't be too hard to find. But still,
there are other things. People on that world would have to worry a lot less
about trying to mug someone and have them turn out to be some hero or
villain who turns around and cleans their clock!" Audience chuckling now.
He was losing them, had to pick things up a pace. "'Awright, you! Gimme yer
purse!'" he said gruffly, going into a crouching stance. On cue, a hologram
projector displayed the image of a shadowy figure onstage, which suddenly
revealed itself as Supergirl in all her glory, taking an impressive stance,
body erect, defiant look in her eye. Jason-As-Mugger suddenly looked
stricken, then backed up, whispering, "Oh...excuse me, I thought you were
someone else," in a pitiful voice. The audience went nuts, laughing fit to
split their sides at the sudden reversal of fortune.

Jamie looked to her left to see Diana chuckling. "Someone actually used
that line once," Diana whispered to Jamie, smiling slyly.

Sarah looked slightly uncomfortable.

She was watching Jason Thorn and knew that there was something familiar
about him, but she couldn't place it.

But she was being distracted.

Almost as soon as she sat down, she had noticed that the bodybuilder (she
had been called Lynn by Jamie's friend, Diana) had sat next to her, and
seemed to be focusing her attention on Sarah. Lynn's eyes were strange,
almost amber-gold, and didn't she seem to have slightly tapered ears?

Right before the comedian had come on stage, Sarah had felt a strong, sure
hand brush against her leg, and had looked up to meet Lynn's eyes for one
startling second. At that time, she knew for sure that Lynn wanted her, for
reasons she could not define...but they existed, all the same. It
frightened her...but it excited her, as well.

Sarah had known for a long time that she would never be a strong- willed
person like Jamie sometimes was. But, she found relief in that, in- stead
of insecurity. Someone once said that you were a leader, or a follower, and
Sarah found solace in the fact that she was a follower.

She wondered what touching Lynn's face would be like, and a flush of heat
filled her body.

"Excuse me," she whispered to Jamie, and got up, heading for the ladies'
bathroom. Her gait was quick, but slightly unsteady. Lynn/Lynx noticed
this, and got up to follow her.

"Just to protect her," Lynn said quietly, and sauntered to the rest- room.

Sarah looked at herself in the mirror, wondering where this sudden flare of
heat came from, when the restroom door open, closed...and then locked.

She turned to see Lynn walking towards her, smiling broadly.

"Hello, Sarah. Are you all rrrright?" Lynn purred.

Sarah's eyes widened slightly, and managed, "Y-yes...I'm just fine."

"Good." Lynn walked towards Sarah, who backed against the counter. "I've
been watching you, and I...I like what I see."

Sarah felt trapped, like a bird that turned to stare at the cobra in
pursuit. Her body felt suddenly very, very warm, even though the air in the
room was cool. "D-do you?" Sarah whispered, fear--and was it hope?--in her
voice.

Lynn nodded. "Can you keep a secret?"

Sarah had trouble finding her words. "Yes. Yes, I can..."

Lynn removed the pin at her throat, and placed it in a pocket.

Suddenly, she was gone. In her place was a tall, powerfully built, humanoid
cat. The only thing she wore was a glossy coat of fur.

Sarah remembered her from the bank that afternoon. "L-lynx?"

Lynx nodded, chuckling deep in her throat. Sarah felt a wave of sudden
lassitude at the sound. Sarah tried to clear her throat, and moistened her
lips. They had suddenly gone dry. "What...what do you want?"

Lynx smiled craftily. "I want you, little Sarah."

Sarah moaned softly. She was afraid, but desire was stronger. She wanted
Lynx to want her, to need her, to guide her. She wanted...she wanted Lynx
to want her, and realized she would do anything for that. She wanted to
obey Lynx. "Will you...hurt me?" she asked, timidly.

"Not unless you want me to," Lynx replied softly.

Sarah nodded, then looked around. "What do you want me to do, Lynx?"

Lynx moved closer, her body now only scant inches away from Sarah, who gave
a little jump up to sit on the counter, her back against the wall. "I want
to see you, Little Sarah," she whispered, huskily.

Jason had not missed the two women entering the bathroom.

"Okay, everyone," he said suddenly, "Want to play a little joke on the two
that went into the ladies' room?" A few enthusiastic affirmatives came
back. "All right. When they come back out, I'm suddenly going to say,
'...and they suddenly went to WARP FACTOR NINE!' When I do, start laughing
as hard as you can...make them wonder just what they missed."

There was a good response to that idea in the audience. Jason hoped it
would work.

He went on, expounding on the strangeness between men and women.

Sarah moaned deep in her throat.

She had one of Lynx's fur-covered breasts against her lips. She had found
the nipple with ease, and as she took it in her mouth, Lynx's breaths grew
ragged. Lynx had guided Sarah's hands to her hips, whispering with hot
breath in Sarah's ear, "Stroke me..."

Sarah's hands moved over Lynx's hips, reminding her of Hellion, her cat at
home. She tried to think desperately of what Hellion would have wanted her
to do to him, and she moved a hand over Lynx's short tail.

Lynx's eyes, which were half-lidded in pleasure, flew open as she felt
Sarah touch her THERE. *OH, these HUMANS,* she thought in a haze of lust,
and took care to keep her claws sheathed as her pawlike hands roamed over
Sarah, pulling at the clothing, doing her best to keep from simply tearing
it away. She managed to remove Sarah's tank top and skirt with out clawing
them, but Sarah's bra was as difficult to undo as a Kreed's chitinous
armor. "Get it OFF," Lynx growled, "or lose it forever. I want you sky clad
against me!" Sensing the urgency in Lynx's voice (and the implied threat),
Sarah reached for the snap between her breasts and pressed, the bra falling
away, releasing Sarah's breasts, now swollen with need. Her other hand
continued to scratch at a spot just under the base of Lynx's tail, and felt
as much as heard Lynx's growl of sexual yearning.

"I want to taste your lust-juice," Lynx hissed. Her hands moved between
Sarah's legs and parted them, her mouth moving to kiss and lick Sarah's
inner thigh. Sarah bit back a cry as she felt Lynx's rough tongue scraping
over her inner thigh, moving upward. Her hands moved to her own breasts...

"Stop, Little Sarah," Lynx warned, and Sarah's hands froze in mid-air. "You
will pleasure ME."

"But how can I...?" Sarah asked, puzzled.

In way of a reply, Lynx paused in her ministrations, then leaped up over
Sarah. Her legs split apart to plant themselves on the sides of the
recessed sink area, claws biting into wood and plaster to anchor her there,
her pendulous breasts resting against Sarah's trembling stomach, her bare,
pinkish pussy inches away from Sarah's mouth, Lynx's face near Sarah's
moist womanhood. She had somehow braced herself upside-down in front of
Sarah in a vertical sixty-nine position, her lean legs tensed in a wide
split, Lynx's wet sex splayed open for Sarah.

"Pleasurrrre me," Lynx hissed, and gave Sarah's inner thigh a playful lick,
close to her sex. Sarah did not speak, could not speak. Childish fantasies
and taboo thoughts melded into a feeling of intense desire for this lithe
feline, and Sarah pressed her mouth against Lynx's bare sex, her tongue
darting out to taste Lynx's juices. They tasted surprisingly musky, like
the bite of smoke in smoked sausage, and Sarah began to lick the length of
Lynx's sex, her tongue darting in between the soft folds, moving over the
engorged crest hidden within.

Lynx tensed, her body tightening as she felt Sarah's loving kiss at her
cunny, then began to lap up the juices that flowed freely from Sarah's
womanhood. Sarah's juices tasted sweet, like spun sugar, and Lynx knew she
would not give Sarah up to anyone without a fight! Lynx's fur moved against
Sarah's inner thighs as she drank from Sarah's well.

*Oh GOD!* Sarah thought, but could not speak. She could not speak aloud and
break the spell of their lovemaking. She could only stroke and tease Lynx
with her fingers, drinking up Lynx's hot, thick fluids as the powerful body
suspended in front of her began to sway gently. Sarah's insides tightened
as she realized she was going to explode, and then it came in a long, hot
release as her insides let go, bathing Lynx's face with the product of her
climax.

Lynx licked up every drop as quickly as she could, aware that her own
orgasm was coming upon her fast. Her entire body shook as Lynx suppressed
it as long as she could, but it was not to be denied. Lynx climaxed, her
juices not simply flowing from her but spurting from her in long, white
streams, covering Sarah's surprised, openmouthed face, almost choking her
with the force of it (but not quite, as Sarah greedily gulped down every
drop she could), her hips thrusting up to press her inflamed crest against
Sarah's working mouth.

They both dropped to the floor as one, bodies locked together. After a long
time, Sarah descended from the plateau of her ecstasy. She heard a rumbling
sound, tried to identify it, then recognized it.

Lynx was purring.

The sound was the last strand in the ropes that bound her. With no regrets,
she was Lynx's slave.

"I will do anything for you," Sarah whispered, a little-girl voice full of
fear and wonder.

"I know," Lynx replied, tenderly licking Sarah's face, tasting her own
juices on her cheeks...

Jason was in the home stretch now, winding up his last sketch. He wondered
where those two women were. Had they left the club entirely? If so, that
joke he had planned was going to fall flat on its face...and the audience
knew it, too.

He had just reached the end of the last line, holding the laughter as long
as he could, when the two women came out of the bathroom.

*FINALLY!* Jason thought in sudden relief.

Holding up one finger in the approved signal (he noticed most of the
audience tense up, aware that their part was about to be played) and said
loudly, "...as they suddenly went to WARP FACTOR NINE!"

The audience, bless them all, raised the roof with their laughter, the
fake-sounding guffaws being drowned by more honest-sounding laughter.
Almost everyone was laughing.

Almost.

The tall, rangy one that left the bathroom had the look Jason wanted, the
one that said, "I missed something...! Something FUNNY!" The other one had
stopped still, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

Staring at him, with a look of surprise he had seen once before that day.

*Oh, no...* Jason's frozen mind sent up. *No, no, no, NO...*

He wondered who had said "Thank you, good night!" onstage, as he walked to
stage left and bolted into a run. He didn't realize he had said it himself
until he was in his dressing room, heart pounding.

She was the woman at the bank, the one with her panties around her
ankles...


                      For Want of a Nail...Part Three

Jamie, Diana, Cheryl, and Chris reached Sarah and Lynn as the audience
slowly filtered out through the double doors.

Lynn asked, "Did I miss something?" She frowned, mightily confused.

"I'll explain it later, Lynn..." Chris said, smiling, then looked to Sarah.
The smiles vanished from everyone as each person saw a look on Sarah's face
that was out-of-place in a comedy club.

It was a look of naked surprise and dawning comprehension that had nothing
to do with any joke told here tonight.

Jamie went instantly on alert. "Sarah, what is it?" she asked, calmly
enduring the looks of the other people who were maneuvering around them.

"It's him. He was there..." Sarah whispered. Her color was high, and Jamie
wondered what had gone on in that restroom. "The comedian... Thorn...it was
HIM!"

"Let me understand," Diana said, with a calm air of authority. "The man,
Jason Thorn...he was the one who was at the bank this afternoon?"

Sarah nodded, still stunned.

Jamie looked to Diana, then to Sarah, then to the others. By now, the club
was almost completely empty, and they had to leave soon if they were going
to keep from arousing suspicion or mere attention from the workers who
where coming from their hidey-holes to clear away empty glasses, napkins,
and locating the occasional purse, wallet, or glasses to put in the
Lost-And- Found.

"Do you think he should be approached?" Diana asked, glancing around at the
Clean-up Crew.

Chris thought for a moment. "Now might be good."

Cheryl shook her head. "No. We know very little about this person, after
all. We should find out more before we do anything."

Jamie thought, then said, "I think we had better go." She indicated the
workers around them. "Give these people some room to work in."

The group left, Sarah looking back at the empty stage once.

When they got outside, they began to form ideas on how to examine the
comedian, Thorn.

Trying to check each vehicle to see if it belonged to Thorn was proven to
be a bad idea. An all-night bar was in the same mini-mall where the club
was, and the parking lot was still better than half-full. The only person
who could have checked the license plates was Superconductor, and she was
asleep at the large estate who doubled as their headquarters. When she
slept, the 1812 Overture (including cannons) could not wake her.

Lynx offered to watch the club (from a hiding place) and to follow Jason to
see what he did. It was an idea with merit until Solaria remembered the
LAST time Lynx borrowed her car (and subsequently wrapped it around a tree)
and refused to let Lynx behind the wheel of ANYONE'S car. And, since Lynx
would stand out if she tried to follow him on foot, the idea soon became
too problematic to put into effect.

In the end, they decided to go home, get some sleep, and start work on the
Jason Thorn problem in the morning. All of them were tired from the day's
events, and Sarah seemed more tired than usual. Jamie wondered why...

Jason watched from the window as the group splintered up, a trio walking up
the sidewalk, and two reaching on of the cars in the lot and driving off in
it. He sat back in the dingy sofa and exhaled loudly.

They didn't call the cops, or the Feds, or anyone. They simply left. Unsure
of himself, he reached into his pocket and examined his keys for a long
moment.

*Leave now, or wait?* he thought.

*Wait,* Rational said quietly. *If they are coming back, they'll come back
inside of ten minutes. If they don't then they have no plan to follow you.*

Jason nodded perceptibly, and sat back to wait.

Twenty minutes later, he left the club and slunk along the shadows until he
reached his car. It was a midnight-black 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray
hardtop, a supercharger cowling built low on the hood. The only special
item on it was a personalized license plate that read BIGDOG. It was his
personal extravagance in a world of self-denial.

It was, in the end, safer that way.

He slipped in, started up the engine, and quietly pulled into traffic.

When everyone arrived at the large mansion that served as Headquarters for
the Star Squad, they were all fairly worn out. Lynx, Cheryl, Christine, and
Jamie each headed for their respective bedrooms, while Diana drove to her
own abode. Sarah opted for the couch downstairs...but when Jamie turned her
back, Lynx licked her lips, and Sarah knew what was in store for her
tonight.

Two hours later, Sarah awoke in darkness.

Her body felt warm, very warm, through the borrowed nightgown. She looked
up to see Lynx crouched on the stairs, waiting for her. Sarah smiled as her
lover beckoned to her, and moved up the stairs, following Lynx to her
bedroom.

The room smelled like a lion's mating den. Lynx's trophies, of animals both
familiar and unknown, covered one wall with skins and mounted heads. The
entire room was filled with growing plants, transforming the room into a
rain forest. The bed in the center was covered in animal pelts. The air was
damp and hot.

For Lynx, it was as good as home.

Lynx had taken control as soon as Sarah had entered the room, pouncing on
Sarah as she reached the bed, knocking the breath out of her. Lynx's eyes
gleamed red with lust as she tore the nightgown away from Sarah, baring her
body. Sarah trembled, but not with fear...from breathless anticipation.

Lynx proceeded to bathe Sarah's body with her rough tongue, cleaning Sarah
as a mate would. The roughness of Lynx's tongue seemed to scrape every cell
of skin from her, the sensation pleasurable in its slowness and attention
to every inch of her body.

Sarah did not speak, would not speak. She knew that Lynx would not speak
either. They had become animals, mating in the heat of the jungle. Their
bodies moved against each other, over and under each other. Lips touched to
lips, parting to let tongues greet each other, to touch and press and
fight, entwining around each other, both fighting, both winning. Hands
moved against soft, glossy fur as pawlike hands pressed against bare
breasts, palms massaging steel-like nipples. Body pressed against body as
mouths sought to discover and rediscover the places of the body that fed
the fires

within each other, the places that brought moans, sighs, groans that built
to cries of ecstasy. They fought like lions, each trying to give more
pleasure than they took, attacking nipples and clitoris like pets to be
caressed, and then toys to be squeezed and pinched and nipped and suckled.
Sarah had become a beast in her own right, her cries sounding like the
yowls and purrs and growls of her lover as she lapped up the juices that
flowed from Lynx's body, mewling as she felt the furry fingers moving deep
into her sex, touching the special place that made her hips tighten, her
inner walls closing on the fingers that drove her higher, higher...

The yowls grew higher in pitch as each drank from the other's almost-
drenched womanhood, feeding the heat, driving them higher until each came
in a flurry of squalling cries that would have sent other animals fleeing,
that would have prompted calls from neighbors had Lynx not made sure her
room was soundproofed, keeping the sounds of their lusts trapped within,
like caged animals.

They brought each other to climax, again and again, the caterwauling that
each made heightening the pleasure, until they both met, body to body, in a
single, heartstopping climax that melded them together, heart to heart and
mind to mind...

Morning came for the Star Squad with a clatter of dishes.

Christine was cooking her favorite morning dish, buttermilk biscuits. Lynx
had come in to 'help,' but seemed content to sit back and swipe a biscuit
or two every time a tray of them came out of the oven.

Jamie woke up from a dreamless sleep, and found herself ravenously hungry.
After a quick shower, she walked into the kitchen in a terrycloth robe,
brushing back her hair.

"I followed the smell," Jamie said, a wry gleam in her eye.

Chris sighed. "Well, get them before Lynx eats them all!" She tossed the
oven mitts on the counter and glared at Lynx, who was working fastidiously
on her 'Innocent Who, Me?' look, and was bringing it off well. She preened
a tuft of hair on her midsection with her tongue, then snatched another
biscuit and bolted for the door. Chris yelled at Lynx to drop it, running
after her.

Jamie sighed, then sliced off a biscuit and began buttering it.

When she was finishing up, Superconductor walked in.

She had no real name. But then, she wasn't a real person. She had
originally been created as a plaything for a rich Iraqi general, who had
her crafted as a blue, metallic-skinned djinn. During a terrorist incident
at the palace, the robot had become sentient, and was scheduled for
dismantling when the Star Squad arrived and broke up the battle. Since the
general had been killed in the battle, she asked to be taken away, and the
Squad had liberated her. She proved to be adept at communications,
electronics, and computers, and had the full-time job of making the
hardware of the headquarters run smoothly...which brought her to name
herself Superconductor. She was also trying to learn more about humanity
(which had prompted the occasional 'Miss Data' joke) and was currently on a
personal quest to solve the mystery of the human condition.

She never slept, or ate, or drank. She ran autonomously, with a power
source cadged from an alien artifact (which was, as the architect thought
when he saw the new penthouse, another story) and kept everything running
smoothly.

"Hello, SC," Jamie said agreeably. "I like the new look."

Superconductor looked down at herself. She had endeavored to change her
outward appearance every few weeks (much like changing clothes to everyone
else) and had chosen her current form only two days before. She was 6'2",
tall, lean, muscular, with a noblewoman's face, high cheekbones, and a
sizable cleavage (D cup, Jamie appraised). She 'wore' a white jumpsuit that
contrasted her blue-steel skin. After 0.000051 seconds, she selected the
appropriate response. "Thank you, Jamie," Superconductor replied.

Jamie bit into the biscuit, chewed thoughtfully while Superconductor
watched with fascination (SC could not eat, and did not know why others
gathered pleasure from it), and then asked, "I could use a favor."

Superconductor watched her impassively, then said, "If you say so."

Jamie sighed. She had forgotten SC was a literal person. "I meant, I need
your help."

SC paused, then smiled widely. "Of course," she said, the smile wide and
filled with glee.

Jamie's frowned. "Uhm, there are certain levels of 'happy.' Are you sure
you want to be THAT happy?"

Still smiling broadly, SC said, "Let me check." Another pause, then she
continued, sounding sorry even though she had the smile of a child at
Disneyland. The smile lessened until she looked mildly pleased rather than
ecstatically happy. "Yes," SC said simply, "this is more appropriate for
what I feel."

"All right. I need you to track down someone. A man named Jason Thorn."
Jamie finished off the biscuit and rubbed her hands to clear the crumbs
from her fingers. "When can you get what you need?"

A split-second was all Superconductor needed. "Approximately 2.148534
hours."

Jamie eyed Superconductor, waiting for some punchline that never came.
"That is the...approximate time?"

"Yes, Jamie. Would you like the exact time...?"

"No, no," Jamie replied instantly, holding up both hands. "Approximate
will do just fine."

Superconductor nodded. "Where will you be?"

"I am going to run a few errands, but I'll be back by then." Jamie smiled
warmly. "I'm going to take Sarah back to her apartment."

"Yes, I had noticed she was here last night, when I saw her go up to Lynx's
room."

Superconductor noted with curiosity the way Jamie looked at that point,
before she bolted out of the kitchen and headed for Lynx's bedroom. That
was an odd reaction. She had seen something like that once when Mystery had
been told her pet serpent, Lix, had been swimming through the sewers before
laying on her brand-new bed.

Sarah was still sleeping lightly when she heard someone come in, and roused
herself. Her flesh still tingled from the pleasures of last night.

"Hrrmmm...Lynx...?" she whispered.

"NO."

The voice of Jamie, her sister, in that one word, did more to wake her up
than five cold showers and fifty cups of coffee. Her body suddenly jerked
up in the bed to full awareness, her eyes wide as she saw her sister
looking balefully. If looks could kill, Jamie had just destroyed Sarah
three times over. "Jamie! Wh-what are you doing in here?"

"I was ABOUT to ask YOU that question!" Jamie's dark look did not convey
any type of comfort. "What are YOU doing in HERE?"

"Well, I'm...I'm Lynx's girlfriend and I love her!" Sarah replied,
defiantly.

"You wouldn't know what real love was if it bit you on the ass!" Jamie shot
back. When she saw Sarah suddenly blush, a sudden, terrible clarity bloomed
in Jamie's face...much like an explosion in a dynamite factory.

Sarah sniffed. "It just means I have to wear a bathing suit with a skirt,
that's all. The marks won't show that way."

Jamie looked skyward in a Hippolyta-help-me-PLEASE plea. "Sarah, she's not
even your SPECIES..."

"I don't care." Sarah looked petulant. "You have Wonder Woman as a lover,
why shouldn't I have Lynx?"

Jamie's eyes instantly riveted on Sarah, who smiled in triumph.

"It's not hard to figure out. Actually, I've known for some time." Sarah
winked. "So, if you say nothing about me and Lynx, I won't say anything
about you and Diana."

Jamie opened her mouth to deny it...then sighed, her shoulders sagging.
"That's blackmail."

"Let's not call it that," Sarah replied, knowing she had the upper hand.
"Let's call it high-class persuasion."

There was a LONG pause. Then Jamie said shortly, "Get dressed. I'm taking
you home before your mother gets worried."

Sarah smirked, the battle won, and said, "If only I could tell Mother about
her..." before she began to dress.

Jamie left the room, shaking her head, wondering how she was ever going to
deal with this.

What bothered her was the fact that things between her and Wonder Woman
weren't what Sarah thought. Even though the terrible events that had made
her what she was created a strong bond between her and Diana, it was not
quite what Sarah had thought. They were, at the most, closer than friends,
sisters in spirit...but after the strenuous, intense weeks on Paradise
Island, she felt things change between them, the sexual fervor cooling even
as their relationship drew them closer together. They would make love...but
it was the comfort of close friends, not the passion of true lovers.

Jamie sighed, then walked downstairs to her room to get dressed for the
day.


                       For Want of a Nail...Part Four

Jason spent the previous night strapped into the electric chair.
He had seen clearly the long walk down a corridor to the chamber where he
was strapped in, his shaved head swabbed with water, the strap under his
chin tightened painfully...
A faraway voice screamed, (NO! Not ME! Him! HIM! The Other One! The One who
brought me here!)
The sudden CHUNK! of a connection closed, and...
HIS BRAIN WAS FRYING IT WAS FRYING INSIDE HIS SKULL IT WAS GOING TO COME
OUT OF HIS EYES AND EARS AND
And that, friends and neighbors, was when Jason Thorn had woken up, his
hand shoved into his mouth to turn the scream of terror into a thick
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH!
He sat that way for a long time, until he tasted blood and realized his
teeth had pierced the skin of his hand. He got up, walked to the bathroom
stiffly, and looked at his hand. There was a semicircle of teeth
impressions in his hand, and blood seeped from one near the middle of the
arch. An incisor, Jason reckoned, and hunted for the medical kit. After
applying anti- septic, he bandaged his hand.
He looked in the mirror for a long time, then nodded his head.
"Well, Mr. Rose, you finally got what you deserved for killing my wife," he
told the mirror. "I hope it was at least HALF as painful for you as it was
for me."
He stepped into the bathtub, and set the water on HOT.

Jamie drove Sarah home. No words were spoken throughout the entire
30-minute drive.
Jamie let her out without speaking, and Sarah did not look back as she
walked up to her place. Jamie pulled out and drove to the freeway, driving
HARD.
She didn't know who she was the angriest at--Lynx, for pulling this kind of
thing; Sarah, for going along with it; or herself, for ever bringing those
two together.
When she got back, she tried calling Diana, but the message said that she
was gone on business...which meant she was in town or out at Paradise
Island, or one of a hundred places in between. In any case, she was
unreachable.
Jamie hung up, wanting to leave her doubts and troubles behind her... or
below her.
A ghost of a smile flitted over her face as she went upstairs to don her
Star Girl costume.

Jason looked out of the window while he dried off, wondering what he would
do on a Saturday morning.
He looked down at himself, appraising himself carefully.
Two arm, two legs, one body, all of it muscular...and none of it was his.
He had no idea how to keep it up, and he noticed the small but tell-tale
signs that his abs were starting to turn to flabs from disuse.
*Okay, so try to remember the gym that you signed up for, and see what you
can do to keep it from becoming the body you once had, Jason Thorn. What
was it...Oh, yeah, the Ultimate Fitness one...you walked in, took a look,
and what sold you was the fact that it was nearly empty at night...and on
mornings like this.*
Jason nodded, then started hunting around for the stuff that one wore to
gyms.

Five minutes later, he had gotten into his car and was driving down the
road. The events of yesterday were only an annoying buzz in his head, and
it did not make much noise at all. If something was to happen, it would
have happened already...
Then the volume on the Bank Robbery Music cranked up another 40 deci- bels.
The gun.
The gun under his seat. The one he had intended to throw away...
He jerked in his seat as if given a 10,000-volt jolt.
"Oh, HELL," he whispered thickly, and took the next right turn.

Jason found what he was looking for.
It was a large, puke-green dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant named The
Green Dragon. It smelled so rank, Jason thought the place should have been
called The House of MSG.
But for what he planned to do, it was perfect.
He went back to the car and stripped down the Scorpion, turning it from a
working weapon into a neat pile of metal parts. He took all the larger
pieces and put them in the dumpster, scattering them in the smelly trash.
The rest would go into trash cans at the gym, in the bathroom, and in any
sidewalk trash receptacles he happened to pass along the way. It would have
been crazy to dump a fully-functional assault weapon in one place.
He got back in his car and drove out of the parking lot, heading back in
the direction of the gym.

If anything about her powers impressed her the most, it was the ability to
fly, hands down.
Star Girl LOVED to fly. It was the only power she possessed that had
nothing to do with fighting crime directly, and one she could use purely
for recreation. She loved the feel of the wind in her face as she soared
above the rooftops, the weightless buoyancy of her body as it moved through
the air. It was so enjoyable it was almost arousing.
Flying like this, she could forget her troubles and lose herself in the
sky.
She looked down on the city from her vantage point of two miles high, then
coasted down before any airliners flew into her airspace to roughly 2,000
feet above the ground.
She was about to head home when she noticed something below her. It was a
car, alone on the road.
Something about it seemed familiar.
She dipped lower, moving into a position above and behind it, and then
recognized it.
It was a vintage Corvette Stingray. It was a big beast, built before they
had begun sloping them closer to the ground. The license plate said BIGDOG.
She had seen this car before, and recently.
Curiosity kept her behind the car, following it to its destination, which
turned out to be a small Mexican restaurant named Macayo's.
When the driver parked and got out, she saw who it was--Jason Thorn,
looking flushed and sweaty, wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a
white T-shirt with words written on it, proclaiming to the world that the
wearer was part of the Alcatraz Triathlon Run/Jump/Swim Team.
He was alone, and he might be receptive to discussion. Sarah had recognized
him, putting her in a superior position. Any why not catch him by surprise
now, when he may be thinking he got away with whatever he had done in that
bank?
She descended towards him.

In retrospect, Jason felt he handled it poorly.
He had heard something moving through the air above him, but had thought it
a bird of some sort. He was painfully reminded of the plaza in New Orleans
where his meal of chicken-fried steak and homefries had attracted pigeons
from every direction, dive-bombing to snatch his fries as he tried in vain
to ward them off. As the memory arose, he turned around, bringing his hands
over his head...
...and stopped.
It was not a bird. It was a woman, a woman in a white outfit with what
looked like stars sprinkling the suit. A lasso hung from her left thigh.
He uttered something that sounded like 'Whup!' and jumped back as the woman
landed in front of him, her knees bending slightly to cushion the landing.
He did not know how other men reacted to a flying woman, but his own
thoughts ran something along the lines of, *Oh, Lord, what fresh hell is
this?*
"What...the...?" he managed.
"Good day, Mr. Thorn," Star Girl said with authority. She had not truly
noticed, but the suit she wore was a uniform given to her, and as such gave
her a bearing that was reminiscent of Wonder Woman whenever she spoke in
public. "I am Star Girl, and I wish to speak to you."
Jason chanced a glance around. There were a few people around, but it
seemed like they did not notice this happening. *This happens a LOT in this
town,* Rational offered, but Jason still felt exposed, like a deer in a
gunsight. "Uhm...what about?" he asked quietly, turning back to face Star
Girl.
Star Girl appraised him. He wasn't cowering before her, but he was rattled,
which was not a bad thing. Rattled people tended to speak the truth,
whether they intended to or not. After the initial surprise, he seemed to
be calming down. "It is about your whereabouts yesterday."
Jason felt a kind of savage relief. *They know! They know every- thing!
It's over!* he thought.
Rational, however, had to have his say. *Bull-sheyet, as your daddy would
say. If they know everything, they'd send cops, not some costumed
supergirl. Get A Grip.*
Jason did. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he said, and
then took the initiative. "Can we talk during lunch?"
Star Girl eyed him carefully. Was he up to something? On the other hand, it
would be best to put him in a place where he cannot easily make a break for
it, if he intended to do that. And, though she would not admit it openly,
she was curious about Jason Thorn.
These thoughts passed through her mind in the space of a heartbeat. "Yes,
Mr. Thorn. I suppose we can do that."
Jason nodded, then said, "Follow me."
They entered Macayo's.

After finding a quiet, reasonably private booth in the corner, they sat
down, Star Girl sitting across from Jason, her back to the wall.
After a quiet moment, Jason asked, "So...what do you want to speak to me
about?"
A pause...then Star Girl said, quite pointedly, "I want to know if you were
at the bank on 12th Street and Main, when it was robbed." Her voice was low
and level.
Jason eyed her carefully. He didn't quite understand if she was to pull a
confession out of him for the police, or if they sent her to bring him in.
Neither seemed plausible.
"May I ask a question, before I answer your question?" Jason countered in a
determined voice.
Star Girl examined him closely. He was very hard to read, and she knew
little...actually, she knew NOTHING about him. She realized that she had
left Headquarters without checking with Superconductor on what info existed
about Jason Thorn, and cursed herself for making a stupid mistake.
Nevertheless, he was still here...and she had to know. Would she give the
advantage to him?
"I suppose you can, but I may refuse to answer," Star Girl replied, still
keeping her bearing in spite of the added instability of her position.
Jason nodded. "All right. Why do you want to know?"
Star Girl recognized this. It was a dance of words instead of feet,
something she had seen. It was a question of how much to give so one can
stay on guard, of how to learn without dropping your defenses. "There was a
woman there," she began, choosing her words carefully. "A woman who would
have been dead if not for this man. This man had saved her life, and the
lives of others there. He had showed great courage, as well as great skill.
It is thought that he was part of the group that robbed the bank, but I do
not think so."
Jason thought for a moment. "Now, if I was this person you think did this,
what would you do?"
"I would say 'Thank you.'" Star Girl watched his features, waiting for his
answer, and was struck by the intelligence in his eyes. His eyes were as
blue as the deep sea around Paradise Island.
"Well...if I was this guy, I'd say, 'You are welcome,'" Jason began, then
added, "...and I would say that I am honored you would come to speak to me
like this." He took a sip of water from a glass before him, then looked up
to Star Girl.
She was aware that something had changed in the dance, and she was suddenly
unsure of what her reasons for doing this were. "I respect bravery," she
replied simply, then took a drink from her glass. Her mouth was suddenly
dry with anticipation.
Jason took a deep breath. He had taken a new direction with this
conversation, one that had become personal, almost intimate. He knew by
instinct that he had to go for it, follow it through to the end. "Listen,
Star Girl...would you like to stay for lunch? Since we're both here anyway,
it seems a shame to play move-and-countermove."
It was and was not a confession. What he said was not something that could
be proven in any court, but she knew he was the one. She was surprised by
his boldness, but she found it intriguing as well. Still, she was surprised 
to hear herself answer, "Yes. I would like to stay."

Jason ordered a chicken chimichanga. When Star Girl asked about it, it
sounded appealing enough, so she ordered one as well.
While they waited, Jason inquired about her. She did not reveal much beyond
that she was from the same place Wonder Woman was from, and that she was
the official leader of the Star Squad. She talked about her fellow Squad
members (she had stifled a laugh when Jason asked if they referred to each
other as Co-Stars), but only of their experiences in crimefighting.
Star Girl inquired about him as well, and was surprised to learn that he
was from Nebraska and knew very little about superheroes until he had
turned 24 and had moved to New York (six years before he moved to
Metropolis) and had only seen two in real life (not on TV or on the radio)
since he moved to Metropolis. She was also pleasantly surprised that Jason
did not turn the date into a one-person audience for his stand-up
comedy--although he would occasionally turn a phrase into an amusing
response, he did not make her feel like she was a straight woman in his
performance. By the time lunch had arrived, she felt completely at ease (as
much as she could relax without betraying her secret identity).
In between bites, Jason mentioned that he had never seen her at any of his
performances. ("Believe me, I'd remember," he had confided.) She replied
simply that she was glad of it. Jason had taken no offense.
The food was good, if terribly spicy. Jason had pronounced it perfect with
tears in his eyes. Star Girl had enjoyed her meal as well, and wondered if
the company had played a part in it.
After Jason paid for lunch, they both walked out into the afternoon sun,
shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness.
"So, Star...I guess this is the time where I ask you that special
question," Jason said, turning to face her.
"What...question is that?" she asked, puzzled.
"Do I say 'Goodbye,' which is traditionally forever...or do I say, 'Until
we meet again?'"
Star smiled inwardly. Despite her natural inclination to think of stand-up
comics as men of little inner substance, this one seemed to be different
than she had expected. He was obviously intelligent, and had recovered
fairly quickly from her sudden appearance. From her initial experience of
meeting Wonder Woman, she knew first hand how difficult that could be. She
was intrigued.
"I believe, Mister Thorn, until we meet again..." she said with a twinkle
in her eye. She bent her knees ever so slightly, then slowly took to the
air. After glancing back down once more, she looked skywards, and soon was
lost to sight amidst the swirling clouds.
'Co-Stars?' Star Girl laughed as she twirled in a circle through the
clouds...

Jason looked up, watching her until she was lost to sight, and then brought
his eyes back down to Earth again.
He could have sworn he had just gone on a date with a superheroine. What
was even stranger was that he liked her. He didn't think very much of most
of the superpeople he'd heard about, but when he did, he wondered what they
were really like when the TV cameras left and the attention span of the
public moved on to other things.
His next reaction was to consider keeping his distance. He didn't need the
potential headache that associating with one of THEM confounding his life.
It would be a lot of work and a lot of trouble.
Then his next reaction was, WHAT THE HELL. His life was protected, but it
was TOO protected. If she had been an ordinary woman, he'd have conjured
up some other excuse. He had done it before...too many times. It was time
to show some guts and to take some risks.
Besides...the military would have forgotten about him some time ago.
He resolved to get in touch with her again.

Jason forgot a few very important things.
One, the military at large may forget some things, but when certain
officials are humiliated and demoted for letting a man go AWOL and steal a
forty-million-dollar battlesuit, they do NOT forget so quickly or so
easily.
Two, even though Jason Thorn bore little resemblance to Jason Malenkov, the
appearance of the battlesuit in one photo from one glory-hound
photojournalist is bound to attract attention...especially from the person
it was stolen from.
And finally, the military is an organizational giant. Giants move slowly,
but when they reach you, they'll squash you like a bug...

Pamela screamed as the whip curled around her right buttock, the length of
rawhide curling around the taut muscle like a snake, the sting from the tip
like fangs sinking into the reddening skin. The scream died away to a low,
soft moan of pain and pleasure.
Behind her, she could feel Max pausing, considering where to place the next
lash. Along her back, which was already scored by thin red lines? At the
backs of her legs, taking away the support of her body with the strike,
maybe even forcing her to hang by her shackled wrists? Along her ass, the
rounds of her hips quivering with each kiss of the whip? She wished she
knew when it would come. The anticipation was making her weak and faint
with desire.
"Oh, God, Max...again...don't stop..." she whispered, feeling the silence
in the room draw out like the blade of the stiletto. "Please..."
"I don't know..." Max mused from behind her. "You seem to have had enough.
You have been punished enough for browbeating me during the meeting."
This was part of the game. Pamela was Max's superior officer, but she had
harbored this secret deep within her, the need to be molded and shaped into
the tool of another.
She responded by hissing, "I meant everything I said! I won't apologize for
a single, goddam..."
She felt the whip strike her right side, the end curling around her body to
sting her right nipple. She shrieked in release, feeling her body lurch as
the pleasure built up within her, cresting and then falling back. Her
juices began to drip down the sensitive inner thigh of her leg, pausing as
the flow moved over the lines the whip made at her inner thigh. Her love
juices stung the wounds on her legs like drops of molten steel.
"Take me...take me, please," she whined.
"Will you apologize?" Max said with a bored tone in his voice. In truth, he
was highly aroused, his cock swollen and erect, his hand moving over it as
he watched Pamela in the throes of the pain she wanted. She always wanted
more and more, but she would never give it away. It had to be taken.
She made a small kitten-sound. He cracked the whip in his right hand and
her entire body rose and fell at the sound.
"Will you apologize?"
She began to speak when the phone rang. "DON'T! Don't answer it!" she
barked, eager for him to fill her, but Max picked it up anyway. Tears fell
down her cheeks as she listened to him talk on the phone in that sleepy
voice. She sagged where she was bound.

It was always the same. First, it had been Pam's grandfather when she was a
toddler. Then, it had been her father who had her over a hundred times
before she reached puberty. Then, the 'honor' had been given to her two
brothers, who shared her and compared her to their girlfriends. She was
never good enough for any of them, but she had tried her best. It might
have even been rape if she hadn't seduced them all into her bed. With every
one of the men in her life, she drew them to her, and then performed for
them with relentless fervor, debasing herself for them.
And, when they finally destroyed her self-worth, when they could do no
more, she had killed each one of them. Her Grandfather, who could not make
his 'thing' work anymore, was found in his large house, a victim of suicide
(she liked the idea that she had figured out what a gas stove could do).
Her father had been driving his motorcycle along a dirt road when a long
section of piano wire (which she had taken from a junkyard piano) beheaded
him when he drove into the near-invisible line at 45 miles per hour. Her
brothers had simply disappeared...which was good, because when they were
through with her, she applied her government training on them. She knew
what forensics could find, and had acted accordingly.

Her newest lover was someone assigned to this case with the goal of finding
a stolen suit designed by the government for their 'black operations'
division, something that could be used to 'neutralize' normals and super-
normals. His name was Maxwell Jackson, and he had proven to be a studious
and talented master, with an imagination that defied description. She hoped
that his imagination was as boundless as his savagery, for she wanted both
in growing measures.
Sometimes, in the darkness, she wished for a glorious end, a final,
tempestuous night of exquisite pain and tormenting pleasure that would
climb so high they would be indistinguishable, a final climax to take her
into the long, dark depths of eternal blackness. She thought Max could give
her that. She hoped he would.
For now, she would be denied.
He hung up the phone, and walked over to her, unwilling to touch her.
"Steele wants us to come in. Someone saw the suit in action, in
Metropolis."
"Are you sure?" she asked, suddenly hopeful.
"The description matches." He unlocked her from the apparatus, letting her
drop to the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. "Get dressed. Wear this."
He tossed her a pair of panties, seemingly normal except for the large
dildo set into them. "Keep that hole plugged."
She licked her lips, then hurriedly put them on, guiding the hard shaft
into her pussy and arranging her panties. She looked in the mirror and
realized that, outwardly, there was no sign of the thick thing that was
being embraced and held by the inner walls of her sex.
She began to dress quickly.

General Rod Steele had once been a three-star general, before the "Los
Alamos Fiasco." He had been in charge of a special anti-supervillain
project, designing weapons to use against those with superpowers (which, in
his personal assessment, meant any superfreak who did not follow his moral
example). They had been on the verge of a breakthrough, with a suit that
could turn insubstantial on command, with enough specialized firepower to
eliminate any villain (or any Godless 'hero') who did not measure up to the
standard of "American."
Everything had been perfect. Even the pilot was hand-picked, a white-
supremacist named Jason Malenkov, a Russian immigrant with a long-standing
hatred for anything or anyone who did not have the highest regard for the
Paradise that was America. He loved the land that could let him hate anyone
or anything he wanted and be allowed to do it because of 'freedom of
speech.'
Then...the Fall.
In the final test, Steele's pet pilot had gone into the suit a brawny,
God-fearing and righteous Uberman, ready to kill for Steele, God, and
America (in that order). He had come out a sneaky, no-account, pacifist
liberal!
Of course, the bastard had hidden it for damn near a week, acting like the
man Steele wanted...but in the end, it had all been a lie. The prick had
fooled them all, and, in the space of an hour, destroyed the research on
the suit, trashed the hangar it had been in, stolen the suit (using some
sort of computer trick he HAD to have help on: Malenkov was strong and
loyal, but a little on the thick side) and disappeared into the Mojave
desert.
Steele had testified at a court-martial that he had no clue to Jason's
mental breakdown, but had not followed procedure on keeping tabs on the
mental state of the pilot. He did not testify that he had made sure that
the pilot thought HIS way and not the way of the bleeding-hearts in D.C. In
the end, he had been relegated to a desk job at the Pentagon, with the loss
of one of his precious stars. He blamed everyone--Jason, the scientists,
the programmers, the MPs at the base, Congress, the President--for his
current loss in prestige.
Of course, he himself was blameless for anything that went wrong.

An hour after she felt the hardness of the shaft within her, Major Peterson
and Lieutenant Jackson were brought into Steele's office. Steele was
sitting at his desk, going over some papers. "Siddown," he said roughly,
and the two junior officers immediately sat down.
As Pamela sat, she felt a strange sensation in her pelvis, but she
attributed it to Steele's presence.
"All right, you two. I've been working my ass off on this thing for over
five years, and now, we finally got a break on the case." Steele was
smoking a thick, long cigar. He told everyone he smoked nothing but the
best Cubans on the market, but everyone who had ever smelled the rank smoke
that came from the stogies he smoked knew they were anything but real Cuban
cigars. No one who wanted to keep his rank, job, and health said anything
about it, though.
Maxwell said nothing, but thought to himself, *You didn't do any work on
any of this, you just sat back and took whatever credit you could get. You
did save the failures for us incompetents, though.* Maxwell thought about
the many schemes that Steele had dreamed up to catch Malenkov. When they
fell through, he always had some underling to pin the blame on, saying that
they were 'not following orders.'
Pamela did the right thing and asked, "What have you found, sir?"
Steele nodded, then said, "A little spic shutterbug snapped a photo of the
suit." He handed Pamela a photograph, which showed a thug in a black
t-shirt and ripped jeans reacting to a punch thrown by a humanoid in
modular armor. The suit's graceful lines were lost on Pamela, who could
only see the pain being dealt. She felt a hum at the base of her spine, and
thought that Malenkov would have been good for a little roll in the hay,
even though it was known that his IQ was barely in the double digits.
Pamela handed the photo to Maxwell, who examined it closely. Max always was
a stickler for details. She liked that.
She felt something in her pelvis and realized that she was slowly getting
wetter. Something was getting her juices flowing. She discreetly brought a
hand to her skirt, pressed slightly...and knew.
Somehow, that shaft inside her was actually a vibrator. The crafty
sonofabitch had put a vibrator in her, one wired to a remote control...and
she knew where that control was, too--in the pocket of his dress pants.
As she watched, she saw his hand pass over the tiny bulge in the left
pocket (not the large bulge in his crotch) and touch it, and the humming
grew within her.
She fought to keep control, knowing he was keeping an eye on her, watching
for any sign of the sensations that throbbed through her body. If she gave
any sign of what was going on, Steele would put her on report or embarrass
her in some other way. Max was enjoying it...and to a degree, she was, too.
It was a game, of sorts--could she hold out, in spite of what was being
done to her?
"What are...our orders, sir?" she managed in a normal tone of voice, biting
back a low moan as Max stepped up the power by one notch, the humming
becoming a silent throbbing in her loins.
"I'm sending you two into Metropolis tomorrow to follow up on this. I'll be
coming myself later in the week."
*I'll be coming in the next few MINUTES! Please, General, hurry this up! I
don't know how much I'll be able to take!* "What will be...ah...our cover,
sir?" she said, as calmly as she could muster. She had to resist the urge
to thrust her fingers under her drenched panties, to punish her clitoris to
bring on the release.
"You'll be going in as employees in the DAILY PLANET...at least, that is
what your credentials will say." General Steele puffed on his cigar.
Pamela nodded, feeling the throbbing increase in power. *Dear God, how many
settings were there?* She waited in delicious agony, waiting for the
General to continue.
The General looked at both of them, then said, "You'll get the full
briefing later. I have to attend to some business."
"Yes, sir," Max said, snapping to attention.
"Y-yes, sir," Pamela managed, rising slowly, hoping the General would not
see the love juices flowing down her leg.
"Dismissed," Steele finished, and the two agents turned and walked out.

As soon as she got out, she felt the throbbing increase to a fever pitch
and looked back at Max. He was smiling slyly.
She would have clawed his eyes out if she didn't have to scamper into the
ladies' room. She bolted into an empty stall, yanked up her skirt, and dug
her fingers into her engorged clitoris, pinching it between her fingers.
She came with a cat-scream of anger and lust, then settled on the seat, her
body covered with seat.
GOD, she loved him...


                       For Want of a Nail...Part Five

Star Girl didn't know which cloud was Cloud 9, but she must have found it
somewhere. She felt unusually happy; even the altercation with Sarah didn't
seem that important.

But, when her boots touched Earth again, reality intruded.

Superconductor met her as she walked in. "Star Girl, I have that
information on Jason Thorn."

Star Girl stopped, startled by Superconductor's message. She HAD asked for
that, hadn't she? In the emotional whirlwind of that morning, she had
forgotten. "I'll meet you in the conference room."

Star Girl entered to see Superconductor in the silver-gray outfit she wore
during 'official' hours. In front of her, on the table, was a small folder.

"Hello, SC," Star Girl said as she sat down. "What do you have?"

SuperConductor looked up, frowning slightly, then said, "I have a complete
history on Jason Thorn...I think."

That took Star Girl by surprise. SuperConductor was, as a rule, exact and
precise. If she was unsure about ANYTHING, it was trouble. "What do you
mean, you think?"

"Well, the information attained through various sources give a complete
history from birth to now, but there is something strange about the
information I received."

Star Girl's good humor was evaporating slowly. "Why? Are there too many
discrepancies?"

"No...quite the opposite. They have almost NO discrepancies."

That earned a puzzled look from Star Girl. "Come again?"

"I have located over twelve different archives and databases in order to
get as much information as I can about Jason Thorn. All of them seem to be
in order, but I've noticed that they all...well, they all SOUND the same.
Like each was written by the same person. Here, I'll show you." She opened
the folder and turned to one particular page. "This is a report of his
short service for the U.S. Air Force, in London. Now," she continued,
picking out one more sheet, "this is the commanding officer of the Royal
Air Force, with a letter of thanks."

Star Girl read them both, then said, "I confess, I can't see..."

SuperConductor pointed to one word in the RAF CO's letter. FAVOR. "The
British don't write this word this way. They write it as FAVOUR. And this
one, GRAY? The British write it as GREY. Whoever wrote this letter was an
American."

Star Girl looked up at Superconductor, suddenly realizing the import of her
words. "So they are faked."

Superconductor nodded. "In fact, I feel it is safe to say that all these
records were faked, and implanted into the files of these databases to give
them the illusion of reality."

Star Girl sat back, exhaling loudly. "So if Jason Thorn does not
exist...who is this man?"

"We must make some assumptions, based on the facts. I will..."
SuperConductor cocked her head. "The phone is ringing."

Star Girl knew better than to argue with SuperConductor's heightened
senses. She went to the door, opened it, then grabbed the nearest
telephone.

"Yes?"

"Hi. It's Wonder Woman."

The smile was automatic. "Hi! What's going on?"

"I have some news...I don't think you're going to like it, though."

Star Girl groaned. Except for her meeting (date) with Mr. Thorn, the whole
day was rapidly becoming lousy. "Better tell me."

"I just got some info from an informed source in the military (*Trevor?*
Star Girl thought) that a General Steele of the U.S. Army has just approved
some kind of operation in your area. From what I can tell, it's something
they like to call a 'black operation.' In other words, some kind of nasty
work no one in the military would ever admit to doing."

Star Girl groaned. "Why me?" she asked no one in particular.

"I was able to get the faces of the two agents they are sending. Names
won't matter because they won't be using their own, but the faces should
help in identifying them." Wonder Woman sounded guarded, and Star Girl
wondered if she was worrying about getting caught.

"Thank you for the warning. Send the faces when you can," Star Girl said
quickly.

"Right. Talk to you later," Wonder Woman said, and then there was the
abrupt click, followed by the drone of a dial tone.

Star Girl hung up, then looked skyward.

"Why me?" she asked again.

Somewhere above, a private jet was winging its way towards Metropolis.

Inside, Pamela was becoming aware that something was up. Max was being
absurdly professional, exchanging file folders on heroes and heroines in
the Metropolis area, always coming back to Jason Malenkov's dossier.

The man featured had a cruel, hard face. They had read and re-read his
personal activities and temperaments until they were second nature. They
knew he was dangerous and vicious...that was why he had been perfect for
the ShadowBox project.

General Steele needed a remorseless killing arm for his personal agenda.

But he had gone rogue, presumably to make it as a freelance killer. Max and
Pamela had been ordered to bring him and the suit back. Bringing in Jason
alive was preferred, but dead if expedient. A living Jason could be
interrogated, maybe even 'turned' psychologically. Dead would be
regrettable, but acceptable.

Pamela looked up to see Max winking at the uniformed stewardess. When he
turned back to look at her, he did not react to her sudden, icy glare.

"Yes, Pam?" he asked obliquely.

Twenty responses came to mind, but the one that came out was, "Keep your
mind on your work."

Max only smiled.

They continued studying the files for another hour before Max yawned. "I'm
going to catch a little shuteye before we land." He paused, then continued,
"See if you can fuck that stewardess by the time I wake up, all right?"

Pam's mouth opened, but no words came out. This was another Order from him.
If she said 'no,' that would be the end of it between them, and it would be
her fault. He would examine the stewardess on the way out to see if she did
what he wanted.

Max continued, oblivious to Pam's surprise, "I checked her file on the
computer. She's a lesbian. Are you bisexual, Pam?"

She realized that the thought of taking the girl aroused her. She closed
her mouth, nodding meekly. Max smiled, acknowledging her, then lay back in
his chair.

Mary Beth Duchene did not see Pam because she was thinking of what she
would do after they arrived in Metropolis. There was this cute guy in the
5th Division there, and he wasn't married. Maybe later, they could...

Pam slipped up behind Mary Beth and clamped one hand over her mouth, the
other hand around her waist, and Mary forgot all about the cute guy. She
tried to fight off her assailant, but the woman who gripped her was
cat-quick, dodging each feeble blow.

"LISTEN," Pam whispered. "Do as I say or I will stick you in a suit- case!"
She waited until Mary calmed down, then said, "Good. You are a good girl,
aren't you?"

Mary did not answer. She had frozen in fear.

Pam sighed, then the hand at Mary's waist moved down under her dress- issue
blue slacks. Pam waited until Mary stopped fidgeting, then went on, her
fingers slipping into Mary's panties. Mary moaned softly, but it was not
the moan of arousal. It was a moan of resignation, which only aroused
Pamela.

Pam began to play with her new 'friend' as the plane shifted to head north
to Metropolis.

Mary closed her eyes and waited for it to be over.

Pam and Max left the plane an hour later.

Mary Beth's eyes were glassy, her face curiously vacant. Her "Have a good
day" was flat and lifeless. Her only visible reaction was the way she
cringed as Pam smiled at her.

*Another satisfied customer,* Pam thought as she walked down the stairs and
across the flight line to the base terminal.

Mary Beth would go home and begin a drinking binge that would last a week.
The cute guy in 5th Division would read how she died of alcohol poisoning
at the end of the week.

*No great loss,* Pam would have thought. *At least she served me well.*

Jason, oblivious to the information drawn on him, had already arrived home.
He changed into exercise clothing and left his house again, heading for the
gym nearby.

A personal trainer remarked that Jason had more energy than usual that day.
Jason thought about that as he participated in the aerobics class, building
up a serious head of steam.

Lynx watched Him.

She had gone to the gym in disguise, the illusion that Mystery had created
for her. She had gone there because she had peeked at the file that
Superconductor had been collecting, and found that he was a member of one
of the clubs. From there, it was simply a matter of figuring out which one
he would be at.

She had been there for the past two hours, using the free weights. A few
people were wondering what her limits were, for she had been pumping the
iron longer than was normally possible. One trainer noticed that she had
been using the bench and was dead-lifting almost 400 pounds. As a
precaution, he had been able to guide the other members away from her,
sensing trouble.

When Jason had arrived, in the black IMPROV T-shirt and SPEEDO bike pants,
she had almost dropped the 200-pound barbell she had been using. Her
paranatural senses had kicked in, his scent reaching her as soon as he
walked through the door, her eyes watching him as he moved from warm-up
area to the aerobic workout area.

*No wonder Star Girl is interested in him,* she thought. *Surely his
superior genetic background is a major factor.* She wondered how he would
be if she Mated with him, and her blood pressure elevated instantly as
thoughts of his naked body against hers caused her to momentarily lose her
concentration. She put down the barbell and strode to an empty cycling
machine, setting the tension to maximum and started, effortlessly pumping
the pedals. She ignored the television screen in front of her and kept her
eyes on him.

*It seems so unfair. Why can't I find a specimen like this?*

Her mouth suddenly quirked up in a sly feline smile.

*But I have, haven't I? Besides, SuperConductor never TOLD me why she was
arranging the file on him...Sorry, Star Girl.*

Jason was strapping himself into the cross-country skiing machine when a
young woman stepped in front of the machine, standing just behind the
touch-sensitive panel.

The first thing he noticed about her were her strange eyes. They seemed
Japanese, but they were set just a little too far apart. They were also a
strange shade of blue. She wore a suit that seemed extreme even for the
usual breathe-easy activewear of a gym--it looked like it had been sprayed
on with an aerosol can (and a light coat, at that), showing off a muscular
body, lean hips, broad shoulders, and a prodigious cleavage.

"Hello, therrrre..." she purred, smiling slyly.

Despite what other people had said about him, Jason did not think that all
women dropped the rest of their lives to take a personal interest in his.
Thinking this, he said simply, "Hello, ma'am," he said politely, starting
up the workout program on the machine's computer panel.

"My name issss...Lynn. Lynn...X," she said, improvising slightly.

*Oh, BOY.* "What does the 'X' stand for?" he asked casually, starting the
workout.

"Use your imagination," she answered, winking lasciviously.

As he started pumping his legs and arms on the machine, he wondered where
the CANDID CAMERA crew was. Was this woman for real? "I dunno...my
imagination's not that good. Why not try the art college down the street?"

Lynx was losing the momentum. She had seen this kind of approach work on
hundreds of movies she had seen on the SPICE Channel. This approach was
shortly followed by women removing their clothes and proceeding to couple
with men (or other women) with almost frightening speed. Watching these
movies, Lynx could see why there were over 6 billion people on the planet.
Was she doing something wrong? Was there some signal she had forgotten to
send? This had worked so well on other lovers..."I'm...not interested in
them. I'm only interested in you," Lynx continued. She was successful in
keeping the doubt out of her voice...barely.

Jason seemed not to take any special notice. "Can you wait until I'm done?
I need to work out for another hour."

This felt like more familiar ground. "I can suggest...other ways." she
replied comfortably.

Jason decided that maybe it was time to do something about this. "Okay,
honey, but you have to tell me something first."

"Anything you want," Lynx replied, smiling warmly.

*I'll bet.* "Can you tell me where Allen Funt and the CANDID CAMERA crew
is? You CAN'T be wearing a minicamera on you, so where is it? In the rowing
machine?"

Lynx's smile froze as the full import of his words seemed to swat her to
the ground. As Jason watched, it seemed to slowly crumble on her face.
Outright refusal, she could handle. Randy responses she could appreciate.
Even quiet acknowledgment would have been partially unsatisfying, but only
in the beginning. But being made fun of...

She had no anger within her. She realized now that her advances seemed
crude and cartoonish to him. A fake face and fake lines, delivered with
rude aplomb, and rebuffed soundly by indifferent levity. She was suddenly, 
totally ashamed of herself.

She turned, eyes filling with tears, and ran for the door, pushing aside a
young man who couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

Jason stopped, got out of the machine, and looked after her. *Oh, that was
cruel. Malenkov would have liked it. You just shot through her idea of
conversation...so why don't you try and put SOME of it back together for
her?*

Jason went after her.

He found her, crouched in a breezeway between the gym and the college, head
in hands, almost on her knees.

"Lynn?"

She shrank back. "Don't...come any closer."

Jason counted to five, then stepped closer. He touched her shoulder and she
flinched. "Do not...I am ashamed." she whispered plaintively, shaken to her
foundations.

Jason bent on his knees, then touched her hand with his. It felt
almost...FURRY. It didn't look furry, though, and he grasped it, pulling it
away from her face. It was streaked with tears.

"I don't...I do not underrrrstand," she managed, and then she bent forward.
Jason caught her, held her cheek to his chest, and knelt there as she
quietly sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I was pretty cruel to you in there. I should have
been nicer to you."

"I must have sounded like some sort of..."

"Take it easy," Jason replied, soothingly.

Lynn drew back to look at him. "Who are you?"

"Just a man, miss. Can you stand?"

"I...I think so." She slowly stood up, with Jason's help. "I do not know
what came over me. No man has ever reacted like that before. I was unaware
of what I was acting like, and I..." She looked ready to burst into tears
again, and Jason touched her face. "I am...unsure of what I have done."

"Miss Lynn, I don't mind when a woman shows interest in me. It's just that
if they are willing to treat sexual favors like handshakes..."

She looked down, some of the shame returning. "I have offended you." "No,
just surprised me. I thought I was the one who offended you like that. I
tend to have a scathing sense of humor at times. Will...will you be all
right?"

Lynn nodded, standing straighter now. "I have acted foolishly. But I do not
know any better."

Jason frowned. "Were you an only child?"

"No. I am a huntress from another world who is stranded here," Lynx said
with a completely straight face.

*At least she didn't ask me to pull her finger.* "Well, if you are
interested in people, you have to have a little more...well, subtlety,"
Jason offered.

"I shall...remember that. Will you accept my offer?"

Jason paused, "The one you made inside?"

"Yes, the indelicate one."

Jason had to think about that. "Well...I think we oughtta know each other
very well before we try anything like that." He paused, then said, "How
about a ride home?"

She felt unsteady. She was amazed how much emotions could affect her. Earth
was very confusing at times. She longed for the simpler, rawer feelings of
the huntress in the jungles of her world. "Yes...I may need a ride."

After Jason collected his gear from the gym, he led Lynn to the car. After
he opened the passenger-side door for her and let her in, he came around to
the driver's seat and buckled himself in. He looked across and saw Lynn
sitting back in her chair. "Lynn...seat belts?"

She looked back at him and stated simply, "No."

He thought about arguing the point, then mentally sighed and said, "Your
option." He started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

As he drove, he asked for directions to her place. Lynx, who was feeling
more sure of herself, opted to direct him to a house down the street from
the Star Squad HQ. Apart from "Turn left here" or "Go down this street,"
she was silent for the duration of the ride.

As they drove up to the (fake) address, Jason asked, "Are you going to be
all right?"

"I will be...just fine. I have much to consider." Lynn got out, turned,
then said, "Will you accept?"

It took a minute for Jason to realize what she was talking about. "Sorry,
Lynn...never on the first date. And Mother would never understand if I told
her I was living in sin with an alien." He smiled abruptly.

There was a ghost of a smile on Lynn's lips. "Very well. But you would have
had a singular experience."

The very next instant, she had vanished.

Jason looked around him, eyes wide in surprise. He could not have seen
Lynx, sans disguise, crouched on his roof, and then leaping into the trees
above.

"Maybe I better find another gym to go to," he said quietly, and then got
the hell out of there.



                       For Want of a Nail...Part six

Lynx was no help at all.

When she walked in, curiously silent, Mystery had asked her what was wrong.

"I may be mistaken about men," she answered, and went to her room.

The infuriating part was that she would not explain what she meant by that.
She didn't say another word or venture forth from her room all evening.

Star Girl was getting ready for bed when SuperConductor, clad in a
white-silver bodysuit, knocked on her door. "Star Girl? May I enter?"

"Come in, SC," Star Girl answered. She was thinking about Jason again,
trying to sort out these strange impulses she felt.

SuperConductor poked her head in through the door. "I wanted to offer a
solution. To the Jason Thorn situation."

SuperConductor had a funny way of talking about the same thing you were
thinking about, yet turn it into something serious. "What did you have in
mind?" Star Girl asked. She began removing the bustier she wore, without
any self-consciousness at undressing in front of SuperConductor. SC had no
real interest in sex, not since they wiped those files from her mind (at
her request) and had built up other, healthier information--psychology,
computer science, up to advanced robotics and mechanical engineering.

"I was wondering how we might clear this up. Since the records are
theoretically fiction, there may be another way to determine his
background." She paused, then went on, "I was thinking of finding a way to
get a DNA sample from him."

Star Girl, clad in boots and her silver tiara, turned to look at
SuperConductor. "That's a pretty invasive test. How do you expect to get it
from him? We can't necessarily ASK him for it without arousing suspicion."

SuperConductor's face was unreadable. "I'll have to think of some- thing."

"When you do, let me know. All right?"

Nanoprocessors opened and closed deep in the neural web of Super-
Conductor's 'mind.' "I will let you know."

SuperConductor turned and left without another word.

Star Girl shook her head, then removed the rest of her clothing, and
slipped into bed.

SuperConductor left the grounds of the HQ in a personal flight-pack, which
was a nega-grav unit in a backpack. Rocket-propelled jet-packs were
dangerous, especially on the legs of the person they carried, but the new
flight-packs not only negated gravity, but altered the pressure of air
around the wearer, pushing them along simply by negating the air pressure
ahead of where one wanted to go and let the pressure from the opposite side
behind the wearer push them along. Cheap, non-polluting, and silent...and
only the Star Squad had them.

She needed to be silent. She was on a mission.

Technically, she was not disobeying orders. She had promised to tell Star
Girl when she had thought of something regarding Jason Thorn, but she
reasoned that this PARTICULAR idea she had was not the one she promised to
tell Star Girl beforehand. She had decided to tell Star Girl about another
idea, but in the future.

This idea she kept to herself.

A DNA sampling of Jason's blood would be more helpful than finger- prints.
And the best time to do this would be when Jason was asleep. If she could
get to Jason before we woke up, she had a small biofeedback device that
would keep him asleep. Cruder versions of it have been used by doctors for
patients with insomnia. It was simple, actually--it sent minuscule pulses
of electricity through the brain, keeping it in a state of deep sleep.
While the biofeedback machine was running, the Macy's Day Parade couldn't
wake the user.

It was perfect for the job needed.

She consulted her records and located the street where Jason's apartment
was. It turned out to be a large complex, with his apartment being on the
third floor in the middle.

No one saw a blue-silver woman land on the roof, slip into the ledge
outside the apartment, and unlock the door with a built-in pick 'gun,' a
tool designed to force all the tumblers at once.

She stepped inside.

Jason proved to have Spartan tastes.

The furniture in the apartment was traditional (no avant-garde or trendy
furnishing here) and kept meticulously clean. An oak table was flanked by
two wooden chairs, and there was one white sofa-loveseat combo in the den.
There were no pictures on the walls. An entertainment center filled one
wall, tricked out with speakers, amplifiers, CD player, radio, big-screen
TV, cable-junction box, and a Sony PlayStation(tm) in one cabinet.

Down the hall was a bathroom, a study (where a squat, long table held a
personal computer setup and filing cabinet) and the bedroom at the far end.
She scanned the room beyond with heat sensors, studying the body within. It
did not shift around as a person just on the edge of wakefulness. She
quietly opened the door and went in.

She examined Jason Thorn with a critical eye, then moved closer, taking the
inch-wide disc from her pocket and placing it on his forehead. He murmured
softly, and she quickly activated the disc. A few seconds later, his murmur
deepened, into a quiet snore as he sank into dreamless sleep.

SuperConductor removed the sheet, and was momentarily surprised to see him
wearing nothing at all. His body was on its side, his left arm folded over
the washboard of his stomach, the right arm under his body. She could see
his penis, long and full, sprouting from the dark tuft of thick pubic hair
above the sac of his testicles.

It had been a long time since she had seen a naked man. Her former owner
had shown his nakedness to her, but the Middle Eastern's body was not as
finely developed as Jason was. She had watched the Arab having sexual
relations with the women of his private harem, but she had never
experienced anything herself--she was a 'golem' to him. She was not worthy
of his touch, not until she could prove she could please him. She could not
remember exactly what she had felt then, being allowed to watch, but never
to participate.

What WAS sex like, anyway?

She reached out to touch his cock, and the touch brought a sudden warmth,
the shaft lengthening at her touch. She examined it, but it did not
diminish.

She was about to touch it again when an idea came to her. She could get a
sample of DNA from more than just blood.

She unbuckled the flight-pack and placed it next to the bed. She then
removed the bodysuit, exposing her chromed-blue body to him. She was built
to be a sexual slave, which showed in the ripe fullness of her breasts, the
curve of her slim hips, the contours of her long legs, and the fine
features of her face.

She knelt next to the bed, and touched his length again, now stroking it
with her fingertips. It responded, growing long and hard under her light
ministrations. She felt the slight pulse in it, and the odd sensations this
observation produced were noted and logged in her vast database of 
information.

She noticed his hand's motions when it reached up to touch her face. She
sprang back, startled, her body poised to flee...but the hand relaxed
and fell to his hip.

*Note--Sexual arousal makes the body aware, even in beta sleep. I will
investigate further.*

She went to him again, her face nearing his erect member. She did not
breathe, as a rule, so he did not respond to her nearness.

*What to do next...?* she wondered.

She began to stroke his member softly, examining his biological responses.
The member pulsed slightly with the flow of blood through it. *This
provokes a reaction of increased heart rate, as well as unusual touch- data
in the examiner,* she noted.

She felt that this was not progressing, and consulted her databank. She
found there was a way to induce further arousal. Since there was no chance
of him waking up...

She placed her lips on the head of his member, tasting the drop of pre-cum.
The taste brought a wealth of data, most she could adequately under- stand.
She moved down, taking more of him into her mouth, and his hips flexed
upward thrusting the head against the back of her throat. She did not need
to breathe, but this startled her just the same. Her own systems were
running at 107% normal, her tactile-response software relaying streams of
data she took as 'feelings' that indicated that more data was needed...
...as quickly as possible.

Her head rose and fell, as she repeatedly deep-throated him, trying to
acquire as much information as possible. Her chrome-blue hands began moving
over his hips, analyzing the flex of muscles as his hips rose slightly with
each plunge of her mouth.

The data was untranslatable into normal human words. They conveyed strange
emotions, unusual feelings. She wondered if this was the full range of
data, and decided to move ahead.

The sudden, potent explosion in her mouth took her completely by 
surprise, and all she could do was swallow, the semen moving down her throat
and into the biomechanical furnace that processed solid matter into energy.
It was destroyed in an instant, revealing a substance high in protein.

If she was a living creature, she would have cursed. She sat up, looking
down at Jason and berated herself. *You lost the sample! NOW what will you
do?*

She was about to break out the needles when she noticed that he was not
diminishing in length or arousal. She took a deep breath (which she did not
need, but had noticed it worked to relax other humans when they did it) and
wondered if he was capable of another sample.

THIS time, though, she would not simply destroy it.

She straddled his stomach with her legs, a knee on each side.

She could take the sample and store it in a compartment inside her, and the
internal workings of her body made it possible for her to collect a sample
and re-acquaint herself with sex at the same time.

She began to stroke his shaft again, feeling the streams of data trickle up
from the tactile sensors in her gleaming fingers to connect to nanolines of
energy from other parts of her brain. This action, seemingly innocent in
its practice, created...very interesting equations.

It was time.

She lifted herself slightly, reached between her legs to grasp his erect
member, and guided it into her as her hips descended.

The data that flowed in seemed to awaken every sensation in her body,
coursing from her hips throughout her body, the data flowing from her inner
canal through every subsystem, making her blue-silver 'skin' more sensitive
to touch, collecting more data than she thought was necessary. When her
hips met his, his full length inside her, the functions of her brain began
to run faster, burn brighter, than before.

Her hips began to rise and fall, drawing up and away from him to envelop
him again, electricity beginning to hum through her body as it delivered
the data of his hard cock thrusting into her.

*Note!* she managed, her brain being besieged but this new, nameless data.
*Classify...classify this data...as 'Pleasure," subheading 'Sexual!'*
Giving it a name seemed only to increase its flow, her vaginal walls
growing tighter around him, trying to draw as much Pleasure (Sexual) as her
body could manage.

She felt as thought she were on the receiving end of a high-voltage power
line. Every sense seemed enhanced, every 'nerve' in her body seemed to be
crammed with the sensations she felt, translated into machine-language
ecstasy.

She felt herself being set off-balance by the sudden rise and fall of her
breasts, and she raised her hands to cup them in an effort to support them.
Now, THIS was an entirely new form of pleasure! Her nipples seemed to be
alive with electricity; she touched them with her fingers and the combined
input from fingertips and nipples sent shudders through her body. As she
impaled herself on Jason's shaft, she began to caress the skin of her
breasts, but as the intensity increased, she began to tease her nipples
with just the tips of her fingers, then to press harder against them as she
senses greater Pleasure, Sexual could be reached. She pinched her own
nipples, lightly, and are rewarded with a sudden, potent wetness deep
within her--not a distress signal that inner hydraulic systems were
leaking, but an outpouring, a release of lubricating heat that prolonged
the Pleasure, Sexual for her. Not to be outdone, she began to tweak and
pinch her nipples hard, feeling a small amount of Pain (this she knew well)
but also welcomed the intense feelings that threatened to rob her of
reason. She would have felt Hate for her former owner if the waves of
Pleasure, Sexual weren't short-circuiting her normal thought processes.

Then, she felt IT. IT was a build-up of what felt like pressure. It was
almost like a battery inside her, filling with energy, almost swelling as
it drew in power from the ecstasy she was experiencing. She suddenly felt
fear--what if its eventual discharge would overload her systems? Would she
simply burn-out as every internal circuit breaker blew, a pile of useless
parts to be discovered the next morning?

But for her to stop what she was doing was as impossible as moving the
Earth out of its orbit. *Stop! Stop now! I can't assimilate all of this!*
she commanded her body, but it did not hear her, her body seemingly running
on autopilot, on a program that would not stop until it was finished. It
was building, cresting, threatening to discharge at any time...

*No...! Stop! Stop* she ordered in vain...then, *If I must, then I will
take all I can! Prime Builder, help....help...*

Then, her body froze, galvanized, as the 'battery' finally discharged. The
sudden, violent explosion of Jason Thorn's orgasm seemed to fill her,
bringing down all the barriers, releasing the grip of gravity, the last
thrust lifting her into the bright whiteness of her own electrical climax.

She did not hear herself scream. The data that crammed every conductive
line in her body seemed to turn white-hot, searing her body with the
penultimate ecstasy that overcame her. Her body seemed to be on fire, but
it was a fire without pain, a conflagration of pleasure that crowded out
all other senses. She was deep in the depths of it pulled down by the
weight of it, and she thought she would never come up again, that she would
be lost in the endless loop of Pleasure, Sexual given and attained.

But eventually...she rose up from it, the systems of her body re-covering
from the overload, coming back under her control. She tried to push them
away, wanted to stay in the fiery depths, but the data slowed, the pulses
farther apart, letting the rational world fall into normal parameters. She
felt exhausted, although she was not sweating. She could not sweat.

*No wonder humans place so much importance on this act!* she marveled.

She looked down and was suddenly aware that his climax had given her an
ample supply to collect DNA from. She slowly withdrew, her hips aching as
she stood on her feet. She looked at the clock and was thunderstruck to see
that she had been engaging in sex with Jason Thorn for over two hours. Did
it take that long because of Jason's internal stamina, or was it simply due
to his relaxed state?

Luckily, she had recorded the entire act in her memory, and resolved to
play it back to determine what had gone on...

A smile bloomed on her face.

*...as many times as it takes,* she thought wryly.

She put the jumpsuit back on, and had the impression that the outfit
covered up too much of her body. Maybe it was time to re-design her
uniform.

She removed the sleep-inducer and slipped out quickly, strapping on the
flight pack and taking off into the air.

Jason woke up around 10 am on Sunday, rubbing his head.

He'd had the WEIRDEST dream last night.

He looked down and realized that he must have ejaculated in his sleep. A
late-in-life wet dream?

He tried his hardest to remember, but the only image that came up was a
female figure composed entirely of mercury.

"Oh man, I must have had a bad burger or something," he groaned, and went
into the bathroom to take a hot shower. After that, he might go back to
bed.

For some strange reason, he was exhausted...

As he went down to get the Sunday paper, a neighbor, Mr. Sykes, called out
to him. "Mr. Thorn!"

Jason stopped, then turned around. "Yes?"

"If you're going to entertain a lady like that, can you at least ask her to
keep her voice down?"

Jason frowned, puzzled. "A lady?"

"Yes...she let out a shriek that liked to curl my hair!"

He struggled to remember. Did he invite some woman home...? No, not
possible. He thought about the wet-dream theory, and decided to keep it to
himself. "Yes, Mr. Sykes. If I have a woman up there from now on, I'll keep
it down."

The older man nodded. "Sounds like ya gave her a ride, though."

"Uh, right." Jason turned forward again, shaking his head.

This neighborhood was getting a little weird for him.

When Star Girl woke up, SuperConductor was hard at work on the DNA sample.
She figured it would take some time to match the sample up against all the
people in the files, but she was content to wait.

Star Girl came down in a blue robe, walking into the computer room, and
then stopped, looking at SuperConductor.

She was not dressed in the usual jumpsuit. She had foregone it for a new
costume that was frighteningly explicit. It might have been a one-piece
bathing suit once. The gold suit's neckline wasn't plunging, it was diving,
ending at a point that was at least an inch below her waistline. The top of
the suit was attached by silver rings at her sides to the French-cut bottom
of the same gold material.

*Oh, no...she must have dropped back into her 'slave girl' programming last
night!* "SuperConductor, are you all right?"

SuperConductor turned, her eyes sparkling. "I am doing...WONDERFULLY, thank
you."

Star Girl's left eyebrow rose. "Oh? What brought this on?"

"I had...an experience last night. One I have never had before. It was the
most fulfilling thing I have ever done."

Mystery walked in, rubbing her head. "I heard that..." She stopped, eyeing
SuperConductor, then asked, "What...KIND of experience?"

"I acquired a DNA sample from Jason Thorn while he slept."

"Oh? I just hope you got that internal sterilizer before taking his blood,"
Mystery said, slightly annoyed that SuperConductor would go off on her own
like that.

"I didn't draw any blood from him," SuperConductor replied, then smiled
disarmingly.

Five seconds elapsed while the two women examined SuperConductor. Mystery
got it first. She covered her mouth with her hand and whispered, "Oh my
God..."

Star Girl figured it out in the next second. "You...you DIDN'T!!" "That is
a fallacy, Star Girl," SuperConductor replied smoothly. "I did. And I have
the aud-vid recording to prove it."

"I can't believe that you raped a man in his sleep!" Star Girl exclaimed.

"I'm sorry. I did not rape him. He was asleep the entire time. No mental
trauma was detected." SuperConductor stated this in the same way she would
state, "The world is indeed round."

There was nothing Star Girl could say. The very IDEA that Jason had been
'taken' in his sleep by...by...

Mystery asked candidly, "Was he any good?"

Star Girl gaped at her while SuperConductor nodded. "SuperConductor, would
you like to explain why you used him that way to get what you wanted?"

SuperConductor looked blankly at Star Girl. "Men sleep with women to get
what they want all the time. Why shouldn't women do the same?"

Mystery opened her mouth...then closed it.

Star Girl looked heavenward for divine assistance, then sighed. She had no
idea how to handle this. SuperConductor, it seemed, had her own moral code,
which ultimately was the logical code of the machine. "All right...do you
have anything from the...sample?" she asked tiredly.

"I do." Superconductor placed a finger on the touch-sensitive screen, and a
face appeared in 3-dimensional space above a circle in the center of the
computer room.

It was a face that had little in common with Jason Thorn's face. It had a
thick, black beard and mustache that was trimmed in harsh, exacting lines.
The eyebrows were thick and bushy, over blue eyes that looked like hard
chips of glacial ice, frozen for millennia. The mouth was set in a hard
grimace, as though the bearer of the face held no love for anything or
anyone. The face conveyed all the intelligence of a thug.

"Who is THIS person?" Solaria asked. She had walked in, wearing her
costume, while everyone had been examining the face.

"The DNA sample has a 99.3% match with this person. His name is Jason
Malenkov, Sergeant, of the United States Air Force."

[

                      For Want of a Nail...Part seven

"You are saying that this...Malenkov...is the same person as Jason Thorn?"
Star Girl asked, incredulous.

SuperConductor frowned. "Yes...and no."

"Explain that," Mystery snapped, losing her patience quickly. The face was
unsettling to watch.

"The match is not perfect. There are small and large differences. I pulled
his genome from the Air Force Archives, and there are a few differences
between Jason Thorn and Jason Malenkov. Malenkov's IQ is somewhere in the
lower 70s, while Thorn's seems much higher, based on the creativity
involved in his career choice."

Solaria looked thoughtful. "Yes, there is that..."

"Second, and more telling, is that Malenkov came up positive for the
Metagene. Thorn's sample has come up negative."

Mystery shook her head. "But the similarities are too close! A match of
over 99 percent only occurs between identical twins."

"Malenkov was apparently born an only child," SuperConductor replied.
"So...it is theoretical that Jason Thorn should not exist...but the reality
is that he does."

Star Girl began rubbing her head. "This is giving me a headache." "The
results prove that there is some link between Malenkov and Thorn, although
I do not have enough data at this time to form a hypothesis on what this
link is." SuperConductor seemed angry at the fact that she could not figure
out this puzzle of logic.

"So...who IS Malenkov?" Solaria asked.

"Malenkov is...was...a test subject for a project at Los Alamos, but that
information is classified Top Secret--Presidential. I do have medical
records, though." SuperConductor paused, then went on, "Apparently,
Malenkov is a paranoid schizophrenic. He has been diagnosed with
sociopathic episodes, extreme right-wing political views, and one doctor
suspected him of being a full-blown psychopath."

Star Girl's skin began to crawl. "And?"

"And...well, it gets confusing. Apparently he went AWOL five years ago. He
escaped a military base during some kind of test at Los Alamos, and his
current whereabouts are unknown." SuperConductor frowned. "There is other
information here, but it makes no logical sense. I will have to study
further."

Star Girl felt weak with worry. Were Malenkov and Thorn linked? Was Jason
Thorn actually a psychopathic Jason Malenkov? "I have to find out," she
muttered.

"Excuse me?" Mystery asked.

"I'm going to find Jason Thorn and I am going to get some answers," Star
Girl said firmly.

"Star, are you sure? If he is as twisted as the records say, he could be
capable of ANYTHING!" Solaria sounded very worried. She knew how willful
crazy men could be.

"What am I to do? I will not walk around on tenterhooks whenever his name
is mentioned!" Star Girl seemed filled with righteous anger. "I am going to
confront him."

Without another word, she stormed upstairs and practically LUNGED for her
costume.

Mystery followed her upstairs.

Mystery found her while she was fastening the leg-bracer on her left leg.
"Star Girl?"

"I don't want to hear about it. I'm going to bring him in."

"Bring him in? On what?"

Star Girl turned, overfull of righteous indignation. "He's a thief, and a
military fugitive, and..."

"No, no! We don't have anything legally binding on him!"

"What does that matter?"

"Star Girl, look..." Mystery sat down on the bed. "First off, we do not
have anything we can bring to a courtroom. The process we used to identify
him is tested and true by US, yes, but not by the country at large. It will
most likely be dismissed."

Star Girl's ardor showed no sign of cooling but she had to admit that
Mystery had a point. "What else? There's more, I hope." Mystery nodded. "Do
you want to know HOW SuperConductor got the sample?"

Star Girl's left eyebrow rose.

"She entered his apartment without his permission by picking the lock. That
is the first charge, breaking-and-entering. She then went into his room and
put a sleep-inducer on him, which can be legally identified as assault, the
second charge. She then undressed, engaging Jason in fellatio first..."

Star Girl's right eyebrow soon joined the left one in rising. "...then,
having destroyed the sample because she swallowed it, began non-consensual
sexual intercourse with him. So, now we have one of our own committing
assault, breaking-and-entering, and RAPE to acquire the sample," Mystery
finished calmly.

"Athena have MERCY," Star Girl whispered, horrified.

"What do you think the courts would do with that...?"

"They would CRUCIFY us!" Star Girl exploded. "What was she THINKING of?!"

Mystery sighed. "She was thinking about all those times she witnessed sex
without experiencing it herself. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride,
eh? So, in a fit of sudden indulgence, she satisfied her curiosity, as she
wanted to do. Since Jason was not undergoing any stress, she never thought
about his feelings on the subject. She is, in many ways, still a machine...
and being treated as such caused her to doubt her own worth. So, she took
control of herself and placed Jason in the role of machine. She didn't know
any better."

"How...how is SuperConductor doing now?" Star Girl asked, finding a chair
to sit in before her unsteady legs gave out completely.

"Well, she is coming to grips about what she has done. I suspect that she
will realize what she did and have some kind of breakdown. Hopefully, she
will come out of this stronger...and possibly more human. But she
understands that it was something she had no right to do, but she's not
dwelling on it." "Any other unwelcome surprises?" Star Girl asked.

"It depends..." Mystery began. "Do you intend to see Jason again?" The
question took her by surprise. An automatic NO! was her first reactive
response, but..."I don't know," she answered quietly.

"You might be in a good position to determine who Thorn really is."

Star Girl looked at Mystery. "Are you serious?"

"VERY. From what you've told me and from what I saw on stage, Thorn and
Malenkov are two radically different people. We need to know what is behind
it all. We need to find out if he is truly a different person, a
mentally-ill man whose illness seems preferable to his normal mind-state,
or someone working a deep-cover assignment with the skill of Sean Connery."
"And if he is one of the latter two?" she asked carefully.

"Then you'd never have to go near him again. We could get the police or we
can take him in ourselves. But suspicions are not enough."

Star Girl nodded. "I think I will call him. See what kind of man he is."
She reached for the phone, then dialed his number from the phonebook.

"Hi, this is Jason Thorn," replied the fuzzy voice of an answering machine.
"If you are calling about the Publishers' Clearing House Sweepstakes prize,
leave a message and I will call RIGHT back! If you are someone asking for
free tickets to my act, tough...you'll have to buy them like everyone else.
And if you are calling for some other reason...well...I guess you could
leave a message. Lemme find a Beep around here and I'll give it to you..."

Then it cut to the quiet beep.

Star Girl thought for a moment. What kind of message could she leave?

"Hello, Jason. It's your recent lunch date. The actress? Please call me at
the number I give you. If I am not there, one of my co-stars will answer it
for me." She hung up, then sighed, laying back on her bed.

Jason did not answer the phone when Star Girl called because he was out
shopping.

He needed some new material for the next show on Monday. He had exhausted
his available material last weekend and felt he could put some new sketches
in and take out some of the older stuff.

For some reason, he did not have the heart to make jokes about super-
heroes anymore.

So, he went out, decided to drive around, stop at different places, and
observe other people.

The bank robbery was old news by now. No witnesses, no suspects, no little
visits from the police...in short, things were finally looking up.

"I see him," Max said quietly. He was looking down at Jason Thorn from an
observation station, using a saucer-shaped surveillance drone. "Are you
sure that's him?"

Pamela replied, "Yes. I ought to know an ex-lover."

"OH?" Max turned, watching her closely. "Why the ex?"

She looked away. "He was taken away from me, by General Steele." She began
to examine a computer screen fitfully.

"He doesn't look like your type, Pammy." Max purred.

Pam glared at him. "He was one of the best lovers I ever had. Better than
YOU, anyway!"

Max frowned imperiously. "I might take offense at that."

Pamela did not notice. Max ceased to be the most important factor in her
life. She was now replaying her nights with Malenkov in her mind at fast-
forward, listening to Max with only one ear.

*Maybe,* she thought, *I can cure what ails him...*

Max didn't like this.

This Malenkov person didn't seem like much, but he obviously had some
effect on Pamela. She was acting like some giggly schoolgirl with a crush
on the teacher. And Malenkov simply wasn't ACTING like Malenkov.

Max decided it was his personal duty to get rid of the guy, once and for
all. It might get Steele mad, and it might even lose the location of the
armored suit for them.

But, on the other hand, it would give him great personal satisfaction to
get rid of his primary competitor for Pamela's affection.

He made a mental note to hire an assassin for the job.

"What is the alias he is using?" Max asked her. When she didn't answer, he
continued, "Find out, why don't you? Get everything you can on him, where
he eats, where he works, where he sleeps, where he parks his car...
everything."

Pamela nodded, restraining herself from licking her lips at the prospect of
getting up close and personal with Malenkov...

Jason stopped by a large bookstore that had 'bargain bins' of books on the
sidewalk in front of the doors. He peered into the bushel-size baskets of
books, checking to see if he could find any good deals.

He didn't find any first printings of Robert E. Howard's Conan books, but
he chanced upon a copy of Robert Cormier's THE CHOCOLATE WAR. He care-
fully extracted it from the pile, turning it over in his hands.

The cover was the same as when he had seen it in 6th-grade English. Archie
and Brother Leon on the right, peering over at Keith (was the name Keith
Faultner? He couldn't remember it exactly), co-conspirators plotting
against he who would disturb the universe of fictional Trinity High School.
Back then, he had hated to read anything he had to be graded on, but he was
suddenly itching to open it again, to read it for himself and not for the
'B' grade he had gotten for his book report.

"'Do I dare disturb the universe?'" he asked no one in particular, and went
into the store to pay for the book.


                      For Want of a Nail...Part eight

Jason came out of the shop, with another book for his shelves. He decided
to check his messaging service, to see if he would be needed for the next
couple of nights, or if that fell through.

The first message was from the comedy club. He was indeed on for that
night, as well as the next three. Turnout had to have been better than
Jason thought. He got the time he had to show up, erased the message, then
waited for the next one.

As he listened to it, he began to frown. *Actress? I don't know any
actresses...I wish I did, tho...* Then the word 'co-stars' popped up and
his eyebrows rose. Co-stars had been HIS little invention, the one for Star
Girl. Actress...female star. Star girl. Of course...

"She should be in show business," he said wryly. He committed the number to
memory, then called her back.

"You have reached a private number. Please identify who you want to speak
to," the sterile voice on the other end said.

"Star Girl," Jason said quietly.

A momentary click of rerouted connections, then the buzz of a phone
ringing. Then, "Hello?" came from the other end.

"You oughtta be in pictures..." Jason sang quietly into the phone.

A pause, then, "Hello, Jason. I was hoping you would call." Jason opened
his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a curt, "I need to speak to
you...in person."

Jason was jolted out of his pleasant reverie by the sudden flatness of her
voice. "Sure. No problem. Should I come to your place after the show?"

A pause. "No. I'd prefer meeting you at the club."

Jason's frown deepened. "All right. Give a name to the manager, tell him
you're there to see me. He should let me know, then come back to guide you
in. There's a side hallway for the staff you can use, he'll take you
through it. Sound all right?"

"Good enough. What time?"

"Best time would be...9 pm."

"See you then." She hung up without saying goodbye.

Jason stared at the phone, then hung it up and walked back to his car, lost
in thought.

He drove to the club early, then picked up a newspaper and proceeded to
read it while waiting for the show to start.

The show went off well, better than Jason thought it would. It seemed that
a little nervousness had helped him early on, making him sound a little
more real. Some customers seemed a little surprised that his normal 'hero'
sketches were noticeably absent from tonight's performance, but a couple of
new parts he had come up with seemed to placate them.

As long as it was funny...

He finished the act, then went to his small dressing room. He sat down in
the chair, picked up the newspaper, and started reading the comics page.

He was halfway through DILBERT when the manager came by.

"Some dame's here to see you," the manager said. "She says she's an
actress."

"Bring her on in," Jason said, turning to the Business section and laying
it on the table.

A few seconds later, Star Girl came in, an overcoat hiding her resplendent 
costume. She closed the door, then said, "Hello again, Jason
Thorn."

His smile was coming up when she said, "Or is it Jason Malenkov?"

The smile fell, shot down, crashed, burned. He tried to compose him- self,
opened his mouth for something comedic to say, but it was too late. He
closed his mouth, then took a deep breath. "Not me...but I know the man."

She gazed down at him. "You know him? He's you, isn't he?"

"Yes...and no." Jason leaned forward in his chair. "It's a long story,
Jamie."

Now it was HER turn to be astonished. Her eyes flashed, her face betrayed
wonder, amazement, suspicion. "And what makes you think my name is Jamie?"
she asked bitingly.

Jason suddenly felt guilty over his faux pas. He hadn't meant for that to
come out. He pointed to the newspaper on the table. "There's a part in
there next to the Obit page called Announcements. Your transfer to another
STARS facility includes a promotion. Your company photo is right next to
the announcement."

Star Girl picked it up, looked at the photo, then at Jason. "Is this what
you planned to do? I did not think blackmail was part of your arsenal,
but..."

Jason looked suddenly, terribly wounded, the pain plain on his face.
"Jesus, you think that's what I had in mind? I just read about it today. I
didn't even mean to bring the damn business up! I'm not a blackmailer, any
more than I am Malenkov!"

Star Girl found herself at sea. His tone was genuine...but... "Who are you,
if you are not Malenkov? His file said he had no brothers, no relatives..."

"Take a load off. I told you, it's a long story. It also explains how I was
able to identify you."

She looked at him for a long moment, then sat on a nearby chair. "Very
well. Tell me."

Jason took a deep breath...

JASON'S STORY

I guess I should start with my story, before Malenkov got involved. I don't
even begin to understand any of it, and what I do have is pure speculation.

I was born in a world a lot like this one. Don't give me that look, Star
Girl, I know how it sounds...but it's true. I was born Jason Thorn in
Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1958. (pause) You're giving me that look again, Star
Girl. Please listen.

The Earth I was born on doesn't have superheroes, supervillains, and the
like. None of them. No Superman, no Batman, no Wonder Woman, no Justice
League...none of it. I've heard of Firestorm, the Nuclear Man...but on my
world, if you get a serious dose of radiation, you don't get
superpowers...you get radiation poisoning, and maybe two or three different
types of cancer. Metropolis doesn't exist, and neither does Gotham
City...although they both seem to resemble the light and dark side of New
York City. On my Earth, THERE IS NO METAGENE. People who actually have some
kind of ESP or psychic power do not dress up in costumes and fly around
helping people, they join up with the Psychic Friends Network and tell
fortunes for $3.99 a minute. In my world, no one has powers far beyond
mortal men. The only heroes there are the ones who risk their own frail
lives to help others. Or, they are the quiet and diligent who work hard for
long hours so that a poor family or a wrongly- convicted man can get
justice.

That is my world...or at least, it was until about six years ago.

I was a comedian in that world, too, but before that, I was a police
detective. I did it for roughly 6 years before a bullet lodged in my spine
and put me in a wheelchair. After that, I became a comedian...but every
place I worked at needed a ramp for me to get in. Six years ago, though, I
started having some very strange dreams. Dreams where I could walk, where I
was strong...but in those dreams, I was vicious, dangerous. I talked them
out with my wife, Claire (yes, in that other world, I was married, had been
for 10 years) and she suggested I go to a psychiatrist. He called them
'night terrors' and figured that the things I had seen as a police officer
were coming up again.

This next part I'm not sure of, because it comes from military files. But I
think it was when I began to see into the mind of the man I might have
become, a man who was named Jason Malenkov here, in this world. He was a
man who was a twisted version of myself, still in his twenties. He hated
anything or anyone who didn't think just like him. He was cruel and
sadistic, with sexual habits that would turn me cold and shivering in my
bed. He was a psychopath. He was also a soldier, selected for a project
that would help him...USE his special talents for mayhem. It was some kind
of suit that was 'extra-dimensional'...among other things. While Malenkov
was undergoing testing in the suit, I think the suit opened up some
dimensional link between him and me. Star Girl, stop with the look! I know
this sounds crazy, but does it sound ANY crazier than traveling from a
planet called Krypton?? (pause) Uh-huh...didn't think so. Shall I go on?
Okay.

Anyway, about three months after I was introduced to the black world as
seen through Malenkov's eyes, he underwent some sort of final test. By this
time, I think he might have known of my 'presence,' but he didn't seem
smart enough to make the connection between it and the suit. At the climax
of this test, the suit went completely insubstantial, then came back to its
original state...but something had changed.

During the point of total dissolution, Malenkov and I had switched bodies!

I awoke from my dream to see some man in his fifties pounding on the
helmet, asking if I was going to be all right. I must have said I was fine,
for he bellowed laughter and said he expected that of me. I thought I was
still in the dream, but I slowly realized that this was reality...that I
was somewhere else, someONE else!

I saw myself, and saw the man Malenkov staring back at me through the
mirror, but my presence seemed to have softened his hard face. But the
worst part came when I went to sleep in this new Earth.

I dreamed again, but this time I was the outsider looking out of the body
of Jason Thorn. I knew that this was Malenkov in my body, for he had
hardened my face, raging to some doctor about how he 'wasn't supposed to be
here,' and that kind of thing. I think he suspected my presence as well,
for I felt he could see me. As the nights passed, I had dream
'conversations' with him...and before you ask, Star Girl, I have no
interest in repeating them in detail. I told him I had no idea how it had
happened, and had no way of knowing how to reverse it...for indeed, I
WANTED it reversed! My wife on that world had seen what was happening to
her husband. I had no intention of leaving her with that madman!

But by the time I had figured out who to talk to, the suit was gone, hidden
away in some lab while they tinkered with it. Malenkov began to beat upon
my wife in an attempt to get back at me, and the nights when I was a
witness to that nearly drove me as mad as he. Fortunately, she had the
presence of mind to send him to an institution, declaring him mentally
unstable (the stories of my dreams must have sounded like approaching
dementia to the doctors) and they shut him away...for awhile.

I was spending a lot of time learning about the world I was now trapped in.
The suit had returned for a new set of tests, but they seemed to have fixed
whatever flaw had put me in Malenkov's body, for after the tests were done,
I was still here. I did not know what my wife was doing, but it must have
been sheer hell for her. Watching the man she loved turn into a
monster...and never knowing that I was HERE, trapped! I would have gladly
given up this stronger body for the chance to be with her.

I was also learning what the older man (who I learned was an Air Force
general named Steele) had planned for me...and this suit, which he named
ShadowBox. I was going to be his personal assassin. I found the prospect
utterly inhuman!

I agonized over what I could do. My only option, I reckoned, was to steal
the suit, leave the base...and destroy the suit, if I could. I spent many
weeks observing, trying to figure out the best way.

Before I could implement my plan, my alter ego on my world had escaped from
the institution, and was returning to my wife. I confess, I tried every-
thing I could to reason with Malenkov (through my dreams) but he stubbornly
believed that my wife was the key to his 'imprisonment' and that getting
rid of her was his ticket home. And the night before I planned to
escape...he made it home. They found him two hours later,
still...mutilating...my wife.

I was so enraged. I realized I couldn't stay one minute longer in that
damnable place.

I went out to the warehouse where they kept the suit and all of its
materials. I put the suit on, then rocketed out of there...and sent what
they called the 'EMP shell' into the warehouse, corrupting all the files
and computers they had. They came after me, and I went into hiding...but
not before I held my own private service for my wife, Claire.

The next three years were the worst in my life. I found I had to learn
about the world all over again. I didn't even want to TOUCH the suit-- I
buried it under a rose bush in the dank little house I rented, tried to
forget about it. The nights were terrible. I dreamed maybe once or twice a
week, but when I did, HE was there. I went through his entire trial with
him, as though I was sitting inside him. They found him competent to stand
trial, found him guilty of premeditated murder. They sentenced him to death
in the electric chair, and put him on Death Row. All this, I saw.

(deep breath) I thought that with him alive, there was a chance, however
small, that I might go back...but I never wanted to go back. Every- thing I
cared for was gone. Claire was my only reason for going back...and HE put
her in the ground. I started my comedy career again, drawing heavily from
current events. I also noticed things others didn't.

You see, I noticed then what I noticed just now...that some people had
suspicious similarities to some of these heroes and heroines. I worked as a
policeman, so that was some of it...but in some cases, I keep thinking that
people on this world picked up some kind of 'blind spot.' There's a guy
working in a major metropolitan newspaper that looks so much like one of
this world's heroes, I'm surprised his cover wasn't blown long before this.
And that is just one example. Maybe it was because I was from another
Earth...I really don't know.

I close with this...if you are looking for the REAL Malenkov, don't bother.
They executed him roughly one or two days ago. (shivers) I was never a
great fan of Capital Punishment, and I doubt my own partial experience on
the receiving end of Old Sparky will change my mind. But he died in my
world...

"..and to quote Ishmael, 'only I am left to tell thee.'"

Jason fell silent.

Star Girl didn't know what to say. The tale was fantastic, almost
impossible...but it would explain many things. If he was lying, he was a
world-class liar...but Malenkov was found to be dim and low-minded.

And she had seen his act herself. Malenkov simply could not do what Thorn
could do very well.

"I believe you," she said simply.

Jason looked up at her. "I'm glad, Star Girl. I truly am. You're the first
person I've ever truly cared about since I woke up in this topsy- turvy
world." That brought a slight smile to her face. "So...what now?" Jason
asked.

"I don't know. I..." she paused, as she suddenly remembered what Diana had
told her. "Jason, Steele knows you're here."

"WHAT? How?"

"I was informed that Steele was running some kind of operation here. It
must have to do with you."

Jason was up and pacing. "Are you sure he knows? Knows for SURE?"

"That...I do not know for certain. Perhaps you were spotted at a
performance. The connection could have been made at any time. You haven't
been keeping that low of a profile."

"I had hoped he thought I was dead. He still thinks I'm Malenkov." Jason
looked up to the window, then said, "We better get..."

He never had time to finish.

A grenade burst through the windowpane and exploded in the confined space
of the dressing room.

"Got 'em," Max said, smiling widely. "Go get them, Pam. And remember the
special things we have to do for the wench." He packed up his weapon, a
man-portable grenade launcher with a telescopic sight, and walked leisurely
to the stairs that led down to the street.


                       For Want of a Nail...Part Nine

Jason woke up, his head pounding.

He did not make a sound. Waking up from whatever had happened was a relief,
but an internal warning system told him it wasn't good for him if OTHERS
knew he was awake. He kept his breathing slow and deep, one eye opening
just a little to figure out where he was.

The shapes were confusing, and he was unable to orient himself. Okay, so
what do his ears tell him?

*The low rumble of a vehicle. A heavy vehicle. A truck, maybe, or a van.
The sound was strongest ahead of him, so he was near the back. An odd
shifting of something heavy next to him. His body was curled, he felt, and
it was lying down on a rough carpeted floor. An RV?

The light was dim and he opened both his eyes...just a little, not enough
to clue in anyone who might be watching. Now, move the eyes SLOWLY...

He was on the floor of a small bedroom. An RV, definitely...maybe even a
Winnebago. It would make sense, especially if someone was running a secret
op and wanted to move in and out of town without being suspected. Hello,
officer, glad to see you...us? Oh, we're on our vacation, the company
gave us at least two weeks.

Now...what else? The heavy object was large, and above him, behind him.
Best not to chance a look yet. What's that around the wrists? Handcuffs
there...and leg cuffs, too, around the ankles. The two sets were linked
together behind him, bending his feet back until they were resting on his
lower back. The classic 'hog-tied' position. Whoever they were, they were
taking no chances with him...

Wait...all right, no one's here. No security cameras. Okay, Jason, roll
carefully until you're on your back...OUCH! Those damn cuffs HURT. Deal
with it, you've got little to worry about pinching cuffs. Now, you can see
up there and...

Well, what do you know? Star Girl's up there, hog-tied just like you. Big
sigh of relief. If she's bound, she must still be alive--who'd bother
chaining up a corpse?

Wait. Leg cuffs are like yours, but those bracelets she's wearing are not
the ones you saw on her. They're thick, long, made of steel, and are
binding her wrists together. On each of them is a keypad. That doesn't make
sense. Why these big things for her wrists and just cuffs for her ankles?

Worry about that later. Is there a window?

Jason brought himself up slowly, almost an inch a minute, until he could
see out the back window. The lights of Metropolis...far away. About... oh,
maybe 40, maybe 50 miles away. The RV looks a lot better now for a cover
vehicle.

What happened up there? Why aren't we dead? The thing that came in,
hmmm...not the standard grenade, or at least one of us would have been
turned into Picante Sauce, Chunky Style. Okay...what about a concussion
grenade? It would explain a lot...they were knocked cold, not shredded into
ground round. Isn't Star Girl tougher than that? Or did she just get the
lion's share of the blast?

Now...the cuffs. These aren't standard cuffs, but they haven't taken away
my key-ring. Just the standard keys there, but a .45-caliber cartridge is
still there, hooked to the ring. Just unscrew the bullet from the casing,
and...yes, it's still there. The roll of six 100-dollar bills. Your escape-
money, you called it. The money to use in emergencies. But the money isn't
the important thing right now.

The paper-clip that holds it together neatly, however, IS...*

In a few seconds, Jason had unbent the clip and was going to work on one of
the cuffs. It was tricky, but he had had the benefit of needing to get out
of his own handcuffs when a crazy man with a gun had taken a store hostage.
He had gone in, the crook had put his own cuffs on him, and had kept him
under the gun.

He knew it had saved his bacon again when the hasp of the left cuff
loosened and fell open. He pulled it out from behind him, freeing his legs,
and then began on the other handcuff.

As he worked he listened for any sudden increase or decrease in speed. If
whoever had them decided to check on them, they'd slow down or stop some-
where...

He heard a moan and turned quickly. Star Girl was coming to.

He placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes flew open, her body straining
against the bonds. Her eyes were filled with alarm and anger.

"Quiet!" he hissed. Star Girl did, and then recognized him. Jason took the
hand away, putting an upraised finger over his mouth in the universal sign
for QUIET. Jason continued on his handcuff.

"Where are we?" she asked in a whisper.

"On our way. Away from Metropolis. Can you bust out of those quietly
enough?"

She tested her wrists. "No."

Jason looked up at her, curiously. "Aren't you...well, aren't you supposed
to be super-strong or something...?"

She shook her head sadly. "Not with my wrists bound together like this."

Jason realized, finally, why the special restraints had been for her. With
her wrists bound, her power went away (and she seemed none too happy about
THAT) and there was no need for heavy restraints anywhere else. He felt the
other cuff loosen, and he put the handcuffs aside and went to work on Star
Girl's leg-cuffs. "There's got to be a code to unlock those, but I don't
think they'd tell us if we asked them." He got her leg cuffs off and she
could stand again. As he worked on his own legs, she flexed her hands,
twisting her wrists. Her wrists seemed flexible, but she could not bring
her wrists away from each other. She looked down to see Jason spring
himself from the leg-cuffs, and three sets of cuffs soon rested on the bed.

"Any ideas?" she asked Jason.

He looked up, puzzled. "I thought you might. Don't they teach you to do
stuff like this in Heroine School?"

She glared at him. "I have roughly 15 different ways to handle armed
gunmen, but all of them involve having my HANDS FREE!" she hissed.

Jason held up one hand. "All right, all right...I'm sorry I jumped on you
like that." He looked out the window, trying to gauge the speed they were
traveling. Too fast, he figured.

"They're all gone!" Star Girl whispered. "My stars, my lariat, my
bracelets...all of it!"

"Okay, okay...so we have to deal with them, sooner or later. We're not
going anywhere and leaving that kind of equipment behind," Jason replied.

"You have no idea how important they are," she whispered soberly.

"Well...maybe I can get a good ide...Sh! Someone's coming..."

Pamela pointedly ignored Max's requests to check on them until he made it
an order. Then she went back, fuming.

Everything had gone so well at the club, but then Max ruined it by telling
her to drive while he examined them both. She knew it was his way of
denying her the chance to touch Jason again, as well as get a few cheap
thrills by fondling the brunette bitch.

She was thinking of ways to explain why Max disappeared on the trip back to
the base when she opened the door.

Jason had rolled over on his back, but the Star Bitch was still the same
way Max had left her. She felt the need to touch him, to make sure that he
had returned to her...

She bent down, caressing his face. "I have such plans for you, my dear
Jason..."

His eyes opened like a magic trick. "I'll pass...!"

She registered shock and surprise, and then Star Girl brought her hands up
and fastened one of the handcuffs to the bedpost, then swung the other
around to snap closed around Pamela's exposed wrist.

She had enough time to yell, "MAAAAXX!" before Star Girl hit her on the
nape of her neck and sent her to dreamland.

The RV wrenched, fishtailing to the left slightly, as Max slammed on the
brakes. The RV sputtered to a stop on the shoulder.

Jason whispered, "Okay, how about this? If you stay ahead of me, maybe we
can rush him..."

A beam of light came through the closed door, cutting a shallow furrow in
Star Girl's arm, and exited through the back with a loud ZZAZZ!

Star Girl did not cry out, but Jason could tell that it burned like hell.
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her fist tight.

"Whoever you are out there, I've got your girl in front of the door, think
it over!"

Silence for a few seconds. "The name's Max, Jason. That's Pammy in there.
And personally, buddy-boy, I don't mind perforatin' any of ya in there, not
even her."

"Jason, this plan isn't WORKING," Star Girl said through clenched teeth.

"I know, I know...Max, you working for Steele, right? Can't we work this
out without turning this into a slaughterhouse?"

A long pause. "You certainly don't sound like Jason Malenkov. We know it's
you, of course, but you sound awful strange."

"I've been going to therapy?" Jason offered, then cringed as another laser
bolt shot through the door and passed them out into the night, doing
God-knew-WHAT kind of damage out there. "All right, Pammy. Where's her
gear?"

"The top drawer. In there." She pointed to a drawer near the door, which
was padlocked. She flinched as another bolt came through over their heads.

"Sorry, Malenkov. General Steele LIKES you the way you were before."

"What, maladjusted, malicious, and malfunctioning?" Jason called out. "Hey,
Max, what say I just give you the suit? Call it even?"

Star Girl looked STONILY at Jason, and he whispered, "Gotta keep him
talking. Got any ideas?"

She looked up and saw a mirror over Jason's head. She grabbed it, then put
it in front of Jason. "We send it back at him."

Jason nodded, then said, "What do you say, hunh?" He took the large mirror
from Star Girl and placed it in front of them. Then an idea occurred to him
and he angled the mirror. "Hey, Max, Pam says she likes me more than you!"

A blast came through the door, and Jason had an instant of adjustment
before it hit the mirror in front of his heart...and angled up at the
drawer with a loud ZZZANG!, punching through the padlock and through the
drawer. The now-useless lock dropped to the floor.

Star Girl jumped up to collect her gear as Jason said, "Max, I'll give you
one last chance..."

"I have it all," Star Girl whispered.

"Go, out the back!" Jason urged. Star Girl slipped out through the window
and dropped to the road.

"Jason, in a few seconds, I am going to open fire and kill you all.
Anything more you want to say?" Max called out.

Jason pushed the mirror aside, leaning it against the bed, and said,
"Remember the Alamo?"

"What a PATHETIC choice of last words!" Max replied, and opened fire.

Jason had barely enough time to drop out of the back window and run for the
side of the road. Three blasts came through the back over Jason's head.

The fourth one never came out, but Pamela saw where it went. It came
through the door, hit the tilted mirror, and was deflected downward...

...into the gas tanks.

It all went up.

Star Girl was already near the hill and lay flat as she saw the bloom of
flame envelop the RV. Jason was still running--the force of the explosion
lifted him into the air and deposited him on the ground on the opposite
side of the road. He cried out as he landed hard, knocking the breath out
of him. He rolled on the ground until he no longer felt heat at his back,
then stopped to examine himself.

"Two arms, two legs, one head...Star Girl!" He got to the side of the road,
where he saw Star Girl brushing herself off. He ran over to her side of the
road. She turned, saw him, and then they were holding each other close,
Star Girl raising her arms in the air as he came close, then lowered them
to enfold him into her arms. He smelled of smoke, dirt, and crabgrass, but
she was surprised at how CLEAR everything was, after the closed-in darkness
of the RV.

How clear...and how good.

They held each other for awhile, then slowly pulled away, neither knowing
for sure what was happening between them. Jason looked towards the burning
vehicle and whispered, "Jesu Christus..."

"Do you think we should wait for the police?" Jason added, after a long
moment.

Star Girl shook her head. "No. There are too many questions that they would
ask that we have no answers for. If the military is connected to this as
much as we know, our names must stay beyond public attention."

Jason nodded. "Then we better lay low for awhile." He looked out into the
night. "I think I saw a farmhouse about five or six miles back. We should
try to find someplace to hide out, or at least find a phone."

"As well as a way to get these off," Star Girl added, holding up her
wrists.

"Right. Sorry about that."

They began walking.

Seven quiet miles later, they found themselves sequestered in a hay- loft.

The house and barn were empty, but the two of them were able to find a
place where the hay actually felt and smelled clean. The night was cool,
but the barn seemed to keep in enough heat to actually make it comfortable.

Jason and Star Girl patiently worked at the high-tech handcuffs (Jason
began calling them the SuperCuffs--Star Girl wasn't amused) for over an
hour. In the end, they gave up.

"If SuperConductor was here, she'd have these open in half a heart- beat,"
Star Girl said moodily, leaning back against a hay-bale.

Jason sat next to her, his hands folded on his chest. "I imagine that we
need a phone to do that...otherwise, you'd have called her by now."

Star Girl nodded. "I had a special beeper, but I couldn't find it. I gather
those two left it behind, so I couldn't be tracked."

"Yeah." Jason leaned back. "Well, when it gets light, I can head down the
road until I can hitch a ride to the nearest phone."

Star Girl stared at him. "What about ME?" she asked pointedly.

Jason held up one hand in protective protest. "Easy! It just seems that one
man hitchhiking draws less attention than one man and one super- heroine
hitchhiking."

Star Girl looked up again, her ire cooling. She had found out her capacity
for flight had left with her strength. "Yes...there is that. I suppose I
can trust you. You don't seem the type to leave damsels in distress out in
the cold, alone."

"No, I'm not...although I could hardly call you a damsel in distress."

"Oh? I'm handcuffed, without benefit of strength, speed, or flight..."

"...AND still escaped from two armed military spooks. Don't forget that."
Jason replied quickly.

"...WITH your help, MISTER Thorn..." she shot back, a little of her good
humor returning.

"...BECAUSE you had the good sense to travel with EXCELLENT company," Jason
countered, a smirk on his face.

Star Girl threw up her hands. "I give UP!" she admonished, but she felt
much better...even WITH the SuperCuffs on her hands. "You should have been
a superhero, what with that suit and all. After all, even though that
Steele character had evil plans for it, you could turn it around, couldn't
you?"

That quieted Jason for a few minutes. "I don't know," he said with a loud
sigh. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to do it. I barely know
how to pilot that suit."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You seem to think fast on your feet. And you
said yourself that on your world, the heroes there were those who did their
jobs. You seem to know how to do the job of a policeman. Jason Thorn,
SuperCop!" Star Girl said, with a broad smile.

"Yeah, right..." Jason said in a mock-aggrieved voice. "Still...maybe it's
worth looking into. I do know at least one person who could give me a few
pointers." He chuckled to Star Girl, who got the point.

"Well, Jason, there's always Diana. I mean, she helped me."

"Diana Prince? The article mentioned that. But how would she..." His voice
trailed off, his eyes widened. "NO!" he blurted.

Star Girl smiled slyly.

"She's WONDER WOMAN??"

She nodded in reply.

"I KNEW there was SOMETHING about her at the club that night!" He threw up
his hands. "Was EVERYONE at that table a heroine?"

"Well...actually..."

"Oh, me GOD..."

It was too much for her, seeing that woebegone look on his face. She broke
into gales of laughter, while Jason looked stricken with the bright light
of Truth. Her laughter continued for some time.

When she settled down, she said, "I'm sorry, Jason...but the look on your
FACE..."

"Just...tell me one thing."

She took a deep breath, calming herself. "Yes, Jason?"

"Is EVERYONE on this planet a super-powered..."

And she was off again, laughing so hard her sides ached.


                       For Want of a Nail...Part Ten

Jason sighed and lay back on the hay. "Well, I had to ask..."

Star Girl felt much better now. The tension was gone, and after tonight,
they would find a way to get home. "Jason...can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away."

"How do you feel about me?"

THAT got his attention. He sat up with surprise. "Well..." he said after a
long moment, then paused again.

"You're stalling," Star Girl prodded.

"All right...where do I begin? Well..."

"You said that already," Star Girl added. She didn't know why, but she
LOVED watching him squirm...

Jason took a deep breath, then said, "All right. Star Girl, I think I love
you."

Now it was HER turn to be surprised.

"I'm serious, Jamie. I can't say it was love at first sight, but I had
strong feelings for you ever since our lunch date. I haven't had feelings
like that for anyone, not since Claire...I've dated other women, but I
never felt as strongly for them as I do about you."

Star Girl was pleased to hear this, but there was still a part of her that
remained guarded against him. "This is...sudden," she replied slowly.

Jason smiled apologetically. "Well, I didn't know if you were that
interested in me."

Star Girl looked at him for a long moment. She was aware of her own
weakened state. She was no weakling, but would he try something, as bound
as she was? "So...where do we go from here, Jason Thorn?"

He touched the back of her hand with his, looking intently into her eyes.
"I think...we had better get some sleep," he said finally, and lay back
down again next to her.

She nodded, but her face masked the emotions within her. There were so many
things he could have said or done, but he chose not to press it. Was he
truly interested, or was it something to boost her ego?

She lay down next to him, thoughts circulating in her mind, and she found
he was already slipping away into sleep, his hand still touching hers. She
relaxed slightly, then closed her eyes.

She awoke later that night. She did not know why she awoke, but she was
suddenly awake and aware.

She realized that his body had moved closer to hers, his warmth adding to
hers in the slight chill of the night. She looked out through the window
and saw the lights of Metropolis, far away. She marveled at the
circumstances that had brought her here tonight.

She shifted slightly, feeling his chest against her back, his right arm
draped over her waist, his quiet breaths against her neck. Even though the
suit was not as comfortable as her night-clothing, the effect was...

Her breath quickened perceptibly as she found that his presence, so close
to her, was arousing her. As she breathed, his fingertips rose and fell as
they rested against her hip, a light, short caress. His warm breath at her
neck seemed to awaken her completely, her hair stirring with each movement
of air. His chest at her back was tantalizing as well, for she could feel
the cloth of his shirt rubbing against the bare skin of her upper back.

She found an uncontrollable desire begin to build in her. She could not
hurt him, not with her wrists bound...oh, it was bittersweet, knowing what
she could and could not do, but she wanted him. The knowledge of that only
increased her desire for him.

*He loves me,* she thought and that was the most arousing of all. The
Amazon within her caused her to turn until she was facing him. She gazed
upon his peaceful face, then began to slowly, stealthily, undo the buttons
on his shirt. Her legs shifted to balance herself, and the hand at her hip
dropped to the tender flesh of her inner thigh. It did not move, but the
presence of its heat against the skin, caused a quiet moan to build in her
throat, and she bit her lip to stifle it.

The Amazons of Paradise Island held no great love for men, but even they
had to admit there were exceptions to their experience with dominating men.
Steve Trevor had been one, Diana had told Jamie. She wanted Jason to be
another.

She finished with her shirt, her bound hands reaching into the opening to
touch his chest. She kept in a sigh of longing as she touched his body. She
did not stop, could not stop, not even when his breath began to burr in
interrupted sleep.

Her head moved close to his, and she moistened her lips. She touched her
lips to his, pressing lightly, and a small wave of heat FLOWED through her
body.

It was then that Jason awoke to the kiss.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he did not draw away. Star Girl was
thankful for that--if he had pulled away, his words of love would have been
half-truths or outright lies. But the kiss only intensified, as he slipped
one arm under her and the other moved from the caress of her thigh to
enfold her. His lips was soft against hers, not grinding into hers, trying
to show dominance...but they were not weak kisses. The moan slipped past
her lips, her back arching slightly to press against him.

The kiss ended, both pulling away to look at each other, searching, seeking
answers they hoped would be there.

"Star Girl...Jamie..." he began, and her heart beat faster, her blood
growing hot in her veins.

"Jamie..." she answered a half-sigh, half-moan of release. She wanted to
title, no persona to come between her and him. Star Girl was her title, but
she did not wanted to be loved as a public title. She wanted to be loved
only as a woman. "Jason...help me."

He was confused for a moment, then understood. He began to search her
costume for its fastenings or buttons, his hands moving over her body as
they searched, leaving trails of heat. The costume could not keep his heat
from sinking into the cloth, past it, and into her sensitive skin. She felt
his hands cause her skin to burn beneath the fabric, but she had no
intention of guiding him. She enjoyed the search...

Then he found it, the zipper at the back. One hand began to massage her
neck gently, as the other slowly, very slowly, pulled the zipper down.
Jamie moaned again as she felt the bustier loosen, her breasts beginning to
swell in anticipation, her nipples growing hard as they moved against the
loosening suit.

But he did not pull the suit away from her as she expected.

"What are you...Ohhhhh..." she breathed as she felt his hands under her
suit, gently massaging her back as he kissed her lips, then her cheek, then
along the curve of her mouth to her neck, just under her left ear. The
massage increased the heat of her body as the strong, sure hands moved over
her spine with practiced ease, pressing just enough to make themselves
felt. He lightly nipped her left ear and was rewarded with a loud, long
moan. Every nerve in her body seemed to be awakened, singing with the
pleasure that he brought through her.

"Jason..." she moaned, "Don't...stop...please, don't..."

She felt the tip of his tongue tickle her trapped earlobe, and her chest
pressed against him, her hard nipples moving against the cloth of her suit,
the skirt moving up as she felt his hand on her thigh.

Her body seemed caught in a war with itself, Traditional Amazon against
Woman of Passion, fighting not to be dominated or controlled...but she felt
anything but helpless.

His fingers moved from her thigh to her pelvis, and she fought not to cry
out if he touched her womanhood, which was already moist with arousal...
but his fingers moved within an inch of it before moving up her body, and
she felt saved...and cheated. *Give him to me, Athena,* she sent in silent
prayer to Diana's goddess. *Forgive me, but I want to be a woman
first...and an Amazon second...*

"Jason, don't tease me...I want you, I want you so much, it could tear me
apart..." she managed in a voice thick with wanting.

"Patience, Jamie..." he answered, while giving her light, hot kisses along
her neck. "Let me worship you..."

Those words, whispered huskily, sent a flood of pleasure through her body,
and she replied, "Take it off...I want to feel your body against me...
WITHIN me..."

He smiled, then slowly peeled the bright suit away from her body, releasing
her breasts, which were swollen with need, exposing her torso, which was
quivering, and pulled it down past the boots, to drape it over a nearby
bale of hay. The hay was not nearly as irritating as she feared against her
naked body.

She felt his kiss again, along her upper chest, a hand wandering down her
body, and it paused over her right breast. It rested there, the palm
pressing lightly against the nipple, as his mouth moved down her body. She
felt his mouth hover over her left breast, and the words she wanted to
plead with became a loud gasp as his lips kissed her nipple, taking it into
his mouth. He teased it with his tongue, while his right hand began to work
on her other breast, his fingers moving over the skin around the nipple,
while his palm moved over the stiff tip.

Her back arched against him, the slight chill only enhancing the pleasure
of his warmth against her. "Oh, goddess...!" she called out in a burst of
breath as she felt a tiny knot of pressure tie itself inside her pelvis.
"It's been so long..." she moaned.

"For me as well," Jason replied, his mouth releasing her nipple long enough
to speak before moving to the other nipple, his left hand stroking the wet
nipple he left behind. It had been only the briefest pause, but it had left
her craving more and the ecstasy she felt when he touched her was blessed
relief. The heat was overtaking her, the tightness in her pelvis increasing
with every touch, every stroke.

Then his mouth moved lower along her body, from between her breasts down to
her navel. Her taut stomach trembled, whether it was in fear or
anticipation she did not know. Her bound hands moved to his face, guiding
him to the places she needed him to touch and kiss. It felt as though a
storm was building within her, as she felt the light suction in each kiss,
traveling along the flat slope of her pelvis.

When she felt his breath moving over her sex, she felt a sudden, potent
rise of energy. Was it the Amazon in her, knowing what might happen and
dreading the loss of power, trying to fight him off? *No,* she told
herself, almost pleading with herself. *Please give me this...*

Then she felt his tongue, like a white-hot flame, touch the folds of her
sex, and her back ARCHED as anticipation and need drove her to the brink,
making every nerve in her body awaken and feel. She wrapped her legs around
his neck and shoulders as her body tightened, then GAVE in a short,
powerful release, like a pistol shot. She heard a long, deep, husky cry and
was astonished to find it was issuing from her own lips. She had called his
name with that cry, and felt the wave of desire roll over her.

His mouth was still hovering over her sex, the tongue darting out to taste
her, but there would be no more idle capitulation. She pushed him away, her
eyes glazed and smoky with lust as she pulled his shirt off of him, nearly
yanking his pants down and off of him, tearing at his clothing like a woman
possessed...and perhaps she was, for she did not stop until he was as naked
as she.

Her eyes fell to his member and she took it in her hands, feeling its heat
enclosed in her fingers. She spread her legs over his shoulders, her
womanhood poised over his waiting mouth. She paused for a long moment,
relishing the position of power, then took his length into her mouth as her
hips descended.

When she felt the tip of his shaft brush against the back of her mouth,
there was a second of discomfort as she tried not to breathe in through her
mouth, but through her nose. As she felt his tongue touch her clitoris, her
teeth closed lightly on him as her mouth rose and fell, lightly scraping
the sensitive flesh as prickles of sensation coursed up her body.

Jason wasted no time, and as she brought him closer and closer to his
climax, he buried his mouth in the folds of her pussy, fingers spreading it
wide, his tongue finding the small, erect nub, his lips closing around it,
sucking it lightly into his mouth...

He had barely enough time to pull back and whisper raggedly, "Oh... Jamie,
I'm going to cum..." and then he could hold back no longer, fountaining in
her mouth, bathing the back of her throat in orgasm. She instinctively
swallowed, gulping as the salty, musky taste of her filled her senses,
crowding out all reason. Her hips began to buck as his climax fed the fuel
of her climax, and when she felt his teeth close lightly on her inflamed
clit, her mouth enveloped him completely and a loud,
"HmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmm!" could be heard as her climax-cry was muffled.
Jason was barely able to keep up as her juices flowed out of her, lapping
them up as fast as they came.

Jamie released him, gasping for breath, the taste of him still on her lips.
"Jason..." she growled, "I want you within me...and I shall have it!" Jason
moved to stand up, but placed a hand on her as she turned to position
herself on her hands and knees. He guided her up to her feet, his eyes
roaming her body, but always returning to her eyes. She felt the wood of
the barn at her back, and noticed that he had been backing her up against
the wall. What was he...

Then he bent slightly, his hands at her hips, and then he lifted her legs
off the floor, her legs wrapping around his hips for support, her boots
locking at the ankles. Then she felt his length against her sex, brushing
against her clitoris as it entered her. Before she could react, he was
entering her...

Sudden weakness stole over her body, making her shudder as the sudden shift
of power dropped her body around his shaft, the involuntary thrust burying
his member inside her.

"Oh, goddess!" she breathed. "I can't...hold on..."

"Yesss...you can..." Jason panted. Hold on to me..."

With the strength she had left she was able to catch herself, holding to
him. Then he drew nearly out of her, to thrust in again, her body supported
only by the wall, his hands gripping her upper legs, and the force of his
thrusts.

This was what she had feared, the feeling of powerlessness upon being
penetrated...losing her Amazonian strength was bad enough, but...

*No!* she commanded herself. *It is not like before! It is...it is
different! It is different because...because I WANT HIM!*

It was over, just like that. Her strength returned to her in the blink of
an eye. Her relaxed hips tightened as her inner walls closed around his
manhood, holding it tight in her velvet grip, increasing the delicious
friction of each plunge. She found the strength to speak, but her words
came out as low growls..."Yessss...yess, Jason, that's it...give it to
me...give it to me, I WANT IT...!" Even as the pace of his long, hard
thrusts increased, her own thighs were clamping around his waist, flexing
and relaxing, thrusting against his body, hips meeting hips in concert.
Words became lost, they could only cry out in their unchained lusts, chants
of love becoming high, keening animal cries, like the alley cats near her
place that called to each other in the night and then caterwauled in animal
joining--yowling, shrieking, screaming in their frenzied coupling...

The force of their shared orgasm broke through the wall of the barn, their
bodies falling into the soft grass behind the barn, the force of their
landing driving his manhood deep into her, their bodies bathed with sweat
as they writhed against each other drawing out the heartstopping climax for
as long as they could...

And then, it was over...and they were no longer animals rutting in the veil
of darkness, but Jamie and Jason again, bodies against each other, her arms
around his body as his arms encircled her straining body, his length still
buried within her. Every muscle in her body seemed to stand out in sharp
relief as her body tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed.

They stayed that way, entangled in each other, neither willing to let go
just yet. Jason whispered entreaties of love in her ear as she gasped in
short breaths, trying to catch her breath.

"Do you think...anyone heard us...out here?" Jamie breathed, a silly smile
plastered on her face.

"I dunno...but if...there's anything...about an...escaped pair of
tigers...in the morning paper..." he managed, and then they were both
giggling like idiots.

After being bombarded by government spooks, captured, narrowly surviving
an extreme auto accident, and consummating their night by screwing like two
tigers, life seemed very fine indeed...

Chapter Eleven

        Jamie and Jason woke up in each other's arms, at roughly the same 
instant.
        "Good morning, sunshine," Jason whispered.
        "And a...warm 'good morning' to you, too, lover," Jamie replied a
wide
smile on her face.  She began to shift her arms and felt resistance...and she
frowned as she remembered the 'SuperCuffs.'  "Uhm, Jason, you may have to
scoot...no, not up, move DOWN...yes, now let me get my...Jason!  That
tickles,
can't you...a little lower, and...don't you even THINK about doing anything
THERE, we have to...OH! Mmm, now Jason, we really shouldn't be...uhmmmmm, 
now...Jason, we really, ohh, shouldn't...a little to the left and
OMMMMmmmmmm,
yes, that's...that's very nice, ohhhhhhhhMMMmmm, very nice indeed...oh, sweet
Athena, how do you do thaa.....AHH!  Yes, there, THERE!  Suck it...oh, is
that
EVER so...what are you DOING, that feels like...OOOOh-h-h-h-h-h, YES!  Yes, 
that's so good...if I didn't think...you were older...than you looked, I'd
wonder...how you knew how to do THISSSSssss!  Whoa...I...I...what are you OH
GODDESS!  I'm almost...yes, yes, YES, nibble it!  Take it...I'm going
to...no,
don't stop!  Don't you dare stop now, not when AAAIIIYYEEEEEEEEAAAHHHHH!!
AHH!
AHH!  AHHhhhhhhhmmmmmmm...Ja...Jason...you're the devil, you know that?  
Taking advantage of a poor, defenseless Amazon like that...QUIT SNIGGERING!"

        An hour later, a thoroughly disheveled Jason Thorn was dressed and
thumbing a ride to the nearest pay phone.  He was finally picked up by two
men named Meyer and McGee, who were nice enough to drop him off near a gas
station 11 miles away.
        He found a quarter, and dialed the number Jamie (who was Star Girl
again in her slightly-wrinkled costume) had given him.
        It rang twice, then a mechanical-sounding voice answered, "This is a
private number.  No one is able to take your call, so leave your name,
number,
the time you called, and a short message."
        Jason waited patiently for the tone, then said, "Hi, this is Jason
Thorn, and Star Girl and I are..."
        "WHERE?!?!?" 
        Jason pulled the reciever away from his ear, but the damage had been
done--his ear was ringing louder than the phone.  He waited until the sense-
less noises died down, then switched ears.  "Can you keep that down to a low
roar, please?"
        "Where is Star Girl?  Are you holding her ransom?"
        Jason stared at the phone.  "In order, roughly 60-65 miles west of
Metropolis on Route 15...and NO, I'm NOT holding her ransom," he replied, a
note of tired resignation in his voice.
        A long pause.  Then the phone crackled, "Where are you now?"
        "I'm at a...wait, it's a Texarco station.  It's at the 325th mile
marker."
        "Someone will pick you up," the voice said, and then the phone hung
up in his ear.  He eyed the phone, then hung it back on the cradle and sat
down on a nearby bench to wait.
        He was considering putting the whole conversation up to an attack of
PMS, but then he looked back over the situation and realized that his assump-
tion was off-base.  He and Star Girl had disappeared from the club, and now
he was calling the very next day...not Star Girl, but him.
        He said wryly, "When you ASSUME, Thorn, you make an ASS out of U and 
ME."

        Five minutes later, a long, sleek craft was spotted flying towards 
him.  He got up, stretched, and watched it land in front of him, about 15
feet
away.
        A few seconds after it landed, two women stepped out.  One wore a 
white outfit with a sunburst design on the front, and the other...well, the
other seemed to be made of silver, with a blued-steel outfit that left little
little to the imagination.
        "Jason Thorn, I am Solaria.  This is SuperConductor.  Where is Star
Girl?"
        Jason pointed.  "That direction, about 11 miles or so as the crow
flies."
        "Then you will show us...as the crow flies."  Solaria indicated their
craft.  Jason shrugged, then walked in, the two heroines tailing him.

        Star Girl wished she hadn't drifted off again into sleep before Jason
left.  She was having a hard time putting her costume back on with those 
SuperCuffs.
        She had finally pulled the zipper up completely when she heard a 
sound from outside.  She looked and saw one of the Squad transports settling
near the barn.  She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw SuperConductor step
out, then Jason came out with Solaria behind him.
        "Star Girl?" Solaria called out.
        "In here!" Star Girl returned, opening the barn door.
        Both women turned...and stared.
        Her hair was a tangle of brown hair and hay, one thin stick of hay
sticking up through the tiara she wore.  Her skin had the glow of excellent
health, but there were tell-tale...spots of residue along her exposed thighs.
She wore a set of high-tech restraints on her wrists.
        Then they turned to Jason, their eyes dark and stormy.  Without being
aware of it, Jason backed up a step.
        "What did you do to her?" Solaria intoned, her words promising 
unspeakable retribution.
        Jason held up his hands and said, "I think that's a little PERSONAL,
don't you think?  Besides, a gentleman never speaks of such things."
        Solaria was balling her fists when Star Girl realized her current 
state...and what Solaria might have been thinking.  "Solaria, NO!  It wasn't
what you think it is!"
        Solaria turned, eyeing Star Girl with careful appraisal.  "It LOOKS
like you and he...did..."
        SuperConductor, with blissful ignorance, tried to assist Solaria, 
going through her dictionary and offering, "Played hide-the-salami?  Banged
the gong slowly? Burrowed the weasel?"
        Star Girl GLARED at SuperConductor.  "Enough!  Well, if rudely put...
but he did NOT take advantage of me!  I...I seduced him!"
        Ever SuperConductor's eyes widened at that.  "But...what about the
handcuffs?" Solaria asked, turning back to look at Jason.
        "Let me explain..." he began.

        "...and after we got to the barn, we...well, we became quite
intimate.
That's how it happened," Jason finished.
        By this time, SuperConductor was busily checking out the cuffs.  She 
had already determined that a spoken word was used to undo the cuffs and was
running through every letter combination.  Solaria's eyes kept moving from 
Jason to Star Girl and back again.  Finally, she said, "Well, Star Girl, this
is certainly not what I expected."
        "It came as something as a surprise to me, as well," Star Girl 
admitted.
        "I found the code word," SuperConductor interjected suddenly.  "But I
do not understand the word."
        Jason frowned, peering at the computer screen of SuperConductor's 
technical kit.  Then his eyes bugged out.  "You GOTTA be KIDDING me!"
        "What, what is it?" Star Girl asked.
        Solaria looked, and suddenly, inexplicably, started to laugh.
"Well,"
she managed, "it's not a word you'd hear in idle conversation...!"
        "Spit it out, already!" exploded Star Girl.
        Jason tilted his head, smirked, then said, "Superkalifragilisticexpi-
alidocious."
        The SuperCuffs bleeped, then loosened, dropping off of Star Girl's
wrists.
        Star Girl's mouth dropped open as her Amazonian strength returned to
her in a hot flood of energy.  Jason was trying to hide his merriment, 
covering his mouth in an attempt to maintain a gentlemanly decorum.  However,

Solaria was making no such attempt, almost rolling on the ground, convulsing
in loud gasps of laughter.  SuperConductor looked at Jason and Solaria with a
look of confusion, as if to say, 'Oh, Prime Builder, what is THIS all about?'
        In the end, Star Girl's laughter joined the other two.

        After the laughter stopped, and Star Girl was able to arrange her 
hair and clothing, Solaria filled her in on what had happened after the
explosion at the comedy club.
        It had been a mob situation, as those who heard the detonation of the
grenade bolted for the exits, nearly trampling those who hadn't heard any of
the ruckus.  Luckily, the fire doors were up to safety standards, being both
visible and easily opened, spilling the people out into the parking lot.  The
police had arrived a few minutes later, but by that time, Pam and Max had 
already made off with Star Girl and Jason--by the time the firemen broke into
the back area, the dressing room was empty.  The manager had mentioned
sending
Star Girl back there, and "that's when WE got involved," Solaria said.  She,
Lynx, and Mystery had combed the area for clues.  There were far too many 
scents for Lynx to pick up on, but tire tracks leading from the back of the
club had been collected.  One sour note had been the remains of the tiny 
tracking device in the beeper; it had been found in the room under a charred
carpet, a clear sign someone had found it and discarded it.
        "So, when Jason called, we thought maybe he had captured you, taken 
you to some remote place, and was holding you hostage," Solaria said, then
smiled apologetically to Jason.  "Sorry."
        "Forget it.  It WAS a strange situation," Jason admitted.
        "Did they match the tires to the Winnebago on the road?" Star Girl
asked.
        "Couldn't...by the time anyone found the vehicle, the tires had all
been melted into puddles of rubber.  But based on where the tracks were, it's
a safe bet that they would have matched up," Solaria replied.
        "What about General Steele?" Jason asked suddenly.  All eyes looked
to him.  "I mean, I doubt he's going to admit to sending those two yahoos
after me.  That would call too much attention to himself and his pet project.
But I don't think he'll just give up."
        SuperConductor put in, "There's a 91.25% chance Jason Thorn is right
on his assumption."
        "Speaking OF the project, where IS that suit, anyway?" Star Girl
asked suddenly.
        Jason turned to look at her.  After a few seconds, he said, "Well, if
we can keep it discreet...I'll show you where I put it.  It's back in Metro-
polis."

        Five seconds later, Jason was fighting vertigo.
        The Star Craft was designed to carry two, and Star Girl volunteered
(graciously...a little TOO graciously) to carry Jason.  After a short time,
though, Star Girl began to perform barrel rolls, split-S turns, and other
maneuvers normally performed by combat pilots.
        *I shoulda known she wasn't going to forgive me for that OHHHHhhhh
god
oh god oh god, I'm gonna blow my cookies any minute now...*
        "Star Girl, are you TRYING to make me throw up?!?"
        "Jason, I don't know what you are talking about..."
        He held it in long enough for them to land, and fought to keep his
last meal firmly in his stomach.  
        "Jason, you look positively GREEN..." Star Girl smirked.
        Jason made a point of snagging the SuperCuffs after the Star Craft
landed.

        Jason rolled up the storage shed door, and pointed into it.  "I put
it in there."  He indicated a large pile of junk computers, a smorgasbord of
motherboards, junked monitors with smashed CRTs, and keyboards with keys 
missing.
        The three super-women peered inside.  "There's a lot of junk in
here,"
Solaria said with a sour face.
        "Exactly.  Even though the building is secure," Jason began, while
digging through the morass of metal and fiberglass computer parts, "I always 
kept thinking about some red-and-blue-suited yahoo with X-ray vision, so I 
mixed the parts of the suit with a bunch of other electronics."
        "So...how do you know what parts comprise the suit?" SuperConductor 
asked.
        Jason reached in, grabbed the black helmet, and showed it to the
other
woman.  They could see it was tightly wrapped in plastic wrap, the kind used
to bind boxes together on loading pallets.  "I wrapped them.  Thick enough to
stay separate, thin enough to escape casual detection."  He began pulling 
other parts out of the pile, laying them aside.
        Five minutes later, all the components were arranged in a small 
representation of the body, laid out in biological arrangement.  "That's the 
suit," Jason said.
        Star Girl thought it didn't look like very much.  It wasn't a 'hard'
suit--it looked as though the parts were made of inch-thick latex, with a few
mechanical modules in the legs and arms that housed either weapons or pro-
pulsion units (or both), a large module that seemed similar in shape to a 
heavy-duty backpack, and the streamlined helmet with opaque faceplate.  The
'skin' of the suit seemed ribbed (Jason said one of the techs had called it
"the Condom") but that was due to the thin fiber-optic cables that were woven
into the pliable armor, to ferry information to and from the modules. 
        Solaria said doubtfully, "It looks a little like a telemetry suit."
        "Well, that was the basis for the computer system inside the suit.
It
can transfer any impulse at the speed of light to any part of the suit.  They
said it made it more responsive than the human body itself, so it didn't
hinder the wearer."  Jason spoke with the confidence of one who had studied 
the subject extensively.
        "What does it run on?" SuperConductor asked.
        "That."  Jason pointed to the upper section of the backpack.  "A
small
and very potent nuclear-powered engine. The core's a centimeter thick, but it
is supposed to power the suit for up to 10 man-years of use."  He shrugged.
"I
don't understand that part.  Science seems to have been pushed past the level
I knew before."
        "Probably stolen from the alien technology they had stored at Area
51,
I'll wager," Solaria said idly.
        Jason looked HARD at her.  "Pull the other one..." he replied.
        Solaria shot him a look.  "It's true."
        Jason shook his head.  "Where I come from, it's just a rumor...even
though we had a few movies and TV shows about it...wait, you said HAD.  What
happened to it?"
        "Oh, the aliens came and claimed it," Star Girl said nonchalantly.
        "Claimed it..." Jason said neutrally.
        "Didn't you know about the treaty?"
        "Okay, let's just pack this up and go, okay?  I think I better be
sitting down and relaxed before I hear any more, or my brain's going to
explode," Jason said in exasperation.


        Chapter Twelve 

        Jason was silent as they packed up the equipment and proceeded to the
Star Squad HQ.  Star Girl was using her own propulsion, but she looked at him
from time to time, wondering what he was thinking about.  Was he considering
Steele's next move?
        Or was it something else entirely?

        When they arrived, Jason asked, "Well...what happens now?"
        Solaria thought for a moment, then said, "It would probably be best
if you stayed here, incognito, while we figure out what to do next.  General
Steele cannot be tied directly to this armor, so the idea of going public is
not currently feasible.  Maybe if we studied the available information, as
well as the suit, we might come up with something."
        "I agree," Mystery said, nodding.  "Star, would you find an available
room for Mr. Thorn to stay in?"
        Star Girl looked up, then nodded.  "Follow me, Jason."  She walked
towards the house, Jason following after, leaving Mystery, Solaria, and Super-
Conductor to deal with the armor.

        Star Girl showed the guest room to Jason, then apologized for leaving
him alone, but she began to feel self-conscious about her disheveled 
appearance.  Jason nodded, feeling the need to clean himself up as well. She
gave him a hug that made his ribs creak, then gave him a light kiss before
pulling away.
        Jason smiled as she left, and then started to undress.
        "Jason," he said aloud, "what have you gotten yourself into?"
        "TROUBLE," came a voice from behind him.
        Jason froze. *That did NOT sound like Jamie...* he thought, and slowly
turned, his jeans still pooled around his knees.
        Wonder Woman was standing in front of him, near the sliding glass door
to the backyard, wearing her traditional costume, tiara, boots...and a 
serious face.
        Jason let the silence linger for a good long moment, then said, "Am I
the ONLY male in this building?"
        "Levity, Mr. Thorn, is not appreciated," Wonder Woman said sternly, 
her face stony and imperious.  "I am here because of your dalliance with Jamie
and...do put some clothes on."
        Jason looked down, then up at Wonder Woman.  "I have to get cleaned 
up.  My 'dalliance' left me pretty rumpled."  He began to undress again, 
pulling off his jeans.
        "Do you expect me to be impressed by your manhood?" Wonder Woman asked,
looking darkly at him.
        "I expect you to turn around, unless you like watching men shower. I
am not sure about the protocol of Amazons, but I had hoped that uninvited 
guests could expect to be relegated to waiting while their unwitting hosts
cleaned themselves up.  I'm a much better conversationalist when I'm clean."
With that, Jason walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
        To his surprise, he didn't hear another word out of her until he was 
stepping out of the shower, a towel around his waist.  She was examining him
very carefully, giving Jason the unsettling feeling of being sized up for
dinner.
        "All right, Miss Prince, let's chat."
        He made sure not to take notice of her shock and surprise while finding
a robe to cover himself.
        "How did you..."
        "Look, why are you here?" Jason asked, tying the belt of the robe.
        She looked disconcerted, then said, "I am here as an emissary of my
people.  I am here to instruct you to stay away from Jamie."
        Now it was JASON who looked surprised.  "Excuse me, my hearing must
be going.  I could have SWORN I heard you tell me to stay away from Jamie."
        "I did say those words, Mr. Thorn."
        Jason's face darkened.  "I'm sorry...I didn't know that you were her
mother, and I didn't know that she was to do whatever you Amazons tell her to
do..."  He stopped, then eyed Wonder Woman with sudden intensity.  "I remem-
ber reading Amazons removed their left breast so it wouldn't interfere with
their archery.  Is that true?"
        "Jason Thorn, I don't see how that has anything to do with..."
        Jason moved fast for such a big man.  Wonder Woman had just enough 
time to realize he was getting too close to her when he grabbed her golden
lariat and looped a length of it around Wonder Woman's torso.  He was not fast
enough to trap her arms (she raised them up as the rope tightened) but in the 
end, it did not matter--as soon as she felt the rope around her, all signs of
resistance faded.
        "I'll be damned...that actually worked," Jason said in an awed whisper.
        "Yess..." Wonder Woman said quietly, in a vague, disconnected voice.
        "Tell me the truth.  Can you get out of this?" he asked, trying to 
remember the file the government had had on her.
        "No...not as long as the rope is tight around me," she replied.
        Jason didn't like the sound of her voice.  It was curiously flat,
unemotional, compliant.  He'd been around on the Internet, using it as a 
source of information (for his comedy sketches as well as info on the world
he had landed in) and he'd seen his share of smut while cruising.  Some of it
involved superheroes and -heroines, and a lot of it usually dealt with the
weaker male subjugating the stronger female  (through mind control or shackling
them to some device used during the Spanish Inquisition) and then engaging in
sexual acts that were humiliating to the super-females depicted, and it always
showed that they enjoyed it in some twisted way.  Such stories made him some-
what disgusted...were these people so scared of these super-powered women 
that they dreamed of tearing them down?  No matter the case, Wonder Woman
sounded just like one of those dominated women might feel...
        "Are you going to attack me if I let you go?" Jason asked carefully.
        "No...only as a last resort.  You should not be with her," she said
quietly, dreamily.
        "I want you to tell me why not," Jason said firmly.
        In that quiet, disconnected voice, Wonder Woman told Jason why.

        Star Girl showered, dried herself off, and put on her normal clothes,
becoming Jamie again.  The costume had to get cleaned, but it was worth it.
Maybe Solaria would show her where those handcuffs were...a night in her own
bed, with Jason, had a special appeal...
        She was smiling when she knocked on Jason's door.  "Jason?  Are you
decent?"  She chuckled at her own joke.
        "Come on in."
        Jamie frowned.  Jason sounded...wrong.  She opened the door, saw 
Wonder Woman sitting on the bed, and Jason in one of the chairs, and the look
on his face only intensified the unease of her mind.  "Diana...?  Jason? 
What...what's going on?  Why are you here, Diana?"
        Wonder Woman looked to Jamie, and said, "Apparently, I'm breaking you 
two up." She did not sound entirely pleased. 
        "Jamie...sit down.  We need to talk."  Jason's voice was quiet.
        "Jason...Diana...you're scaring me."  Jamie immediately sat down, 
fearing the worst.  She looked to Wonder Woman, and said, "What are you 
talking about?"
        Wonder Woman looked to Jason, who said, "Jamie...we have a problem.
Diana here told me a little about Amazons...where they came from, who they 
are, and...well..." Jason shook his head, then said, "Okay.  Remember last
night, Jamie?  How we...well, you know..."
        "How we had sex, Jason.  Yes, I doubt I shall forget that," Jamie said
defiantly.
        "Remember why it was possible for us that way?  Because of the Super-
Cuffs?" Jason kept on.
        "Yes.  You know, I was thinking about the very same thing, just now."
        "Well, Wonder Woman...Diana...told me that the first Amazon came to
your island to escape the domination of men...and why being tied up or re-
strained in certain ways rob Amazons of their strength.  Some kind of punish-
ment, or reminder, or something like that.  In any case, she said that being
....restrained...like that for you might bring a harder price."
        "How...how so?" Jamie asked, curious in spite of a growing unease.
        "Well, Diana said that you weren't born an Amazon, and that if you
were tied up or cuffed for a long enough time, you might...well, you might
lose your powers.  For good."  He looked to Wonder Woman, who said, "Due to
the...unusual circumstances of your origin, Jamie, you might lose your 'birth-
right' if you were restrained as such by one man more than once.  I know not
how long it would take, but..."
        "Well, I didn't like them very much anyway," Jamie said defensively.
She did not like the direction this conversation was going.
        "Really?" Jason asked, his voice neutral.  "You just said that you 
wanted to know where they were."
        She thought, then remembered.  She HAD said something like that, did
she not?
        "This is what scares me, Jamie," Jason said, his voice stronger now.
"You know that if we were...together...without some method of restraining you,
you could very well break me in two in a moment of passion.  But if you kept
using those SuperCuffs, or any other method, just to ensure my safety, you 
might not hate them so much.  You might even...well, you might even get to 
like using them.  I'm not saying you would, but if it's the only way to be 
with me..."  Jason swallowed.  "And as much as I love you, I can't ask you to
give up what you are, what you've chosen to be, just to be with me.  Because
if you did...you wouldn't be the same person...that I fell in love with."
        "Jason...we could work something out."  Jamie's voice had taken on a
desperate tone, almost pleading.  "We can...take precautions, or something...
we can't just...we can't end like this...!"  She was having trouble focusing
on Jason and Diana by turns, shaking her head softly.
        "Jamie, look at your left hand," Jason said quietly.
        She looked down and saw that her hand had pulled the metal of the 
left chair arm out of shape, molding it in her hand like clay.  When she let
go, she could see the imprint of her index finger in the steel, and she 
realized she'd pressed hard enough to leave a fingerprint.
	What would it do to Jason's body, in a passionate embrace, without
any bindings to inhibit her strength?
	*The same thing,* a rational part of her mind answered, simple yet
painful in its logic.
        *No...no, no, no...*  "Jason...what will become of us?" she asked,
trying her best to control her voice.
        "Jamie...I have to go," Jason continued.  "I can't see you anymore.
A night without without tying you up could break me...and tying you up would
break YOU.  I won't be responsible for that."  He wiped at his eyes.  "I'll
take the armor with me, go to some other city..."
        "Jason, please don't say this, please don't do this!" Jamie exclaimed,
the tears finally beginning to flow...and she knew, almost immediately, that
it was tearing at Jason as well.
        Jason stood up, walking close to her, bending slightly for his eyes
to meet hers.  "I can't take this all away from you.  I can't ask you to give
up being Star Girl.  You need to find someone...stronger, I guess.  Someone
who can make you happy without having to truss you up like a turkey at some
time."  Jason paused, then said in a low whisper, "And you know I'm right 
about this."
        The painful part was...she did know.
        Jason stood up, then left without a word, leaving Jamie and Wonder
Woman alone.
        Jamie stood up, moved to Wonder Woman, then collapsed in her arms,
weeping softly.  "It's not fair...we hardly know each other, and now we will
never love that way again," she sobbed.
        Wonder Woman nodded, then said, "I had sensed your feelings for him.
I had doubts about his feelings for you, before...but now..." she looked at 
the closed door.  "...I know for sure that he does love you.  I had not 
believed that he would love you enough...but he loves you enough not to want 
to change you, to take away what you truly are.  Strange..."
        Jamie said nothing, could say nothing.

        Jason was standing in the hallway when Wonder Woman came out.
        "Go to her, Jason Thorn," she said in a strong voice.  When he passed
her, she gripped his shoulder to halt him.
        "If all men were like you, then there would be no Amazons," she said
soberly.
        "Then count your blessings," Jason said shortly.  "You think I like
doing this?  You think I like saying goodbye to the only woman in this mis-
begotten world who ever loved me? You think I like ANY of it?!"
        "No...I suppose not."  *...and yet you do it anyway,* she thought.
She released Jason, and he went inside.

        Jamie was lying in the bed, her face hidden in the pillow, when Jason
sat down.
        "Go away," she said, her voice muffled.
        "Jamie, I'm sorry."  Jason didn't know what else to say.
        "So you're going to leave?  Just like that?"  Jamie looked up at him,
and was startled by the pain in his eyes, startled enough to fall silent.
        "Jamie, there's no 'just like that' about anything in this whole mess.
But if I stay, what are the odds we'll end up together like we ended up to-
gether in the hayloft?  Better than average?  Almost certainly?  If we stay
together, one of us will get hurt...permanently."  Jason talked as if he 
hated the taste of each word.  "Would you be happy giving up Star Girl?  It's
either that, or putting me in the hospital...I don't want to visit the emer-
gency room...and I can't ask you to stop being who you are.  I don't have that
right."
        "So this is goodbye?" Jamie asked.
        Jason kissed her forehead lightly.  "No.  Goodbye's forever, you know.
I'll stay in touch--I'll never be too busy or too tired to talk to you.  And 
if you need help, help with anything, say the word, and I'll return at a dead
run to help you.  All you need to do is ask."   
        She smiled, but the smile came out all crooked.  "Kiss me, Jason...as
if it was the last time," she whispered.
	Jason smiled, remembering the line.  It was from CASABLANCA, when the
two main characters were in Paris, preparing to escape the Nazis.  Jason
thought about that, as well as the song could have been written for both of
them.  *'You must remember this...'*
        His lips met hers, moist, full, and warm.

	Jamie was asleep when Jason got into his car a half-hour later.
	In the end, he elected to take the Shadowbox armor with him.  "Maybe
I can put it to some good use," he had told SuperConductor, and she agreed
that no one use could use it as well.
	"What will you do now?" Mystery asked.
	"I'll call when I find work.  Give my love to Jamie...and thanks for
your help."
	Solaria, SuperConductor, Mystery, and Lynx waved goodbye as Jason
drove away from the HQ and drove to the nearest freeway interchange...
	...heading west, and out of Metropolis.


EPILOGUE--Two months later...

        Jake Blumberg stepped into the small, one-room apartment and smiled.
        He'd knocked them dead tonight, no doubt about it.  The new batch of
jokes had gone off without a hitch, with smiles, pauses, and funny faces timed
just right.
        Another few weeks like this, and who knows?  Maybe he'd get a shot on
COMEDY RELIEF...
	He checked the newspaper, the ARIZONA REPUBLIC, and noticed a two-
paragraph blurb on the Valley & State section titled, "Shadowy Vigilante
Delivers Goods--and No-Goods."  He decided to read it later, looking into
the Entertainment section, seeing if there were any new clubs opening...
        He stopped ruminating about show business when the phone rang.  He
picked it up and said, "Talk t' me, it's your quartah," in a stiff New Yawk
Accent.
        "Hello, Jason."  The voice was strong, sure, and one he recognized
right away.  Jake smiled.  
	"Hi, Jamie.  It's good to hear from you..."

        THE END





Any feedback, preferably good, should be sent to the author, Jason Thorn