Note: This is the sequel of this story: viewtopic.php?t=9794 (Though I think the title was a big giveaway.
)Here Comes A BUNCH of New Challengers!
**************
This is over.
I have won.
My opponent… my rival… is kneeling at my feet.
“You’ve beaten me at my own game. I concede defeat.” she begs, with her head low.
“It was a mighty battle. One that will go down in history books.”
I adjust the outfit I’ve stolen from her. A sleek black leather catsuit with decorative white fur long the gloves and boots and around the collar, and a black eye mask.
This is what she gets, for calling the police on me!
“I was, however, expecting you had a better taste in undergarments.”
I point at her tacky underwear: girly pink granny panties and bra with white frills and a pattern of little kittens. She blushes red.
“Wake up, Charlotte!”
Magnanimous, I choose to not prolong her humiliation. “Do you take the oath?” I extend my hand, showing her my queenly ring.
“By the Lord, before whom this relic is holy, I will be to Charlotte Beaulieu faithful and true, and love all that she loves, and shun all that she shuns, according to God's law, and according to the world's principles, and never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to her; on condition that she keep me as I am willing to deserve, and all that fulfil that our agreement was, when I to her submitted and chose her will.”
“Rad! Now, hit MY music!”
EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!
EVERYTHING IS COOL WHEN YOU’RE PART OF A TEAM!
EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!
WHEN WE’RE LIVING OUR DREAM!
“Wake up, Charlotte! Wake up!”
**************
My nap is brutally interrupted by a loud noise.
The bangs of metal bars being hit with a baton.
“Charlotte! Wake up!”
Mind still foggy, I roll on my bed, and wrap the sheet around me. “Please… Five more minutes… I’m reliving my glory days…” I mumble.
Don’t judge me. When you’re as energetic as I am, you need all the rest you can get.
“Your glory days lasted one heist!”
I grimace. Ouch… Right in the pride... Does she have to be so blunt?
“Shut up...”
“CHARLOTTE BEAULIEU! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!”
The loud shriek clears away the fog in my head.
With a jolt, I sit on my bed. Energetic mode, activated!
Reflexively, I scratch my back. Why do prison uniforms have to be both ugly and uncomfortable? Ever since Black Cat set me up and called the police on me, I’ve experienced first-hand the drudgery of the United States’ prison system. It’s even worst than Canada’s.
I turn my head towards the woman who has woken me up.
“Hey, Trish, my favorite warden! Looking great in that uniform, as always!”
The uniform of the prison guards consists of black thick shoes, black trousers, a black belt with a grey metal buckle, and a light grey short-sleeved button up uniform shirt. Said uniform shirt has a tucked in collar, dark brown shoulders pads, and chest pockets. Over the shirt, each guard is wearing the regular grey stab vest.
Trish has a white skin, hazel brown eyes and light brown hair tied up into a ponytail. Her face is round-shaped, and she has a small gap between her front teeth. She’s a bit taller than average. Her waist is a bit pudgy, but not too much. All in all, she’s attractive enough.
“I can never resist a gorgeous woman in uniform.” I add with a wink.
It never hurts to suck up a little… Maybe I can get an extra dessert during the next meal. I need my daily dose of sugar...
The prison guard is unimpressed by the compliment. I’m not good at sucking up...
“This isn’t a courtesy visit, Charlotte. Orders from above. You’re supposed to be transferred.” Trish points at the camera watching my cell. “I’m putting you on cuffs. We know your power, so you better behave.”
I jump on my two feet. “Like all great artists, people will only recognize my genius after my death!”
**************
My hands are chained in front of me.
I pout. Handcuffs are even more uncomfortable than prison uniforms. At least she didn’t chain my ankles as well.
Though in hindsight, this is a sign they don’t consider me a serious threat…
…
IT’S A DISGRACE! I am an A-level criminal threat! I demand to be taken seriously! I demand to have my ankles chained!
Still, I suppose it’s useless to ask. Prison administration is notoriously psychorigid. They’re not exactly open to constructive criticism.
Trish escorts me in the corridors of the prison complex. Walking at such a slow pace is torture.
On our way, we’re joined by two other women. The first is an other prison guard, named Kailee. She has a dark skin, brown eyes, and ashen black hair. Her face is square-shaped. Her haircut is a boyish pixie cut. Compared to Trish, she’s a lot slimmer.
The second woman is an other prisoner. An athletic-looking white-skinned blonde, with blue eyes and a chin-long shaggy bob cut. Even without her infamous white-and-fuchsia full-body jumpsuit or purple hair dye, Screwball is still recognizable.
I let out a grunt of disgust. “What? She’s being transferred too?”
Kailee chuckles. “Looks like they didn’t want to waste the taxpayers’ money. Only the important convicts get individual transfers.”
Ouch! That’s the second hit to my pride today! I know mockeries and sarcasms are a staple of heroines-villainesses dynamics… But these wardens are savages!
I love it!
“You’re telling me I’ll have to travel with Screw-Up?!”
“Hey! You’re just jealous!” Screwball intervenes.
God, how much I hate her annoying voice…
“Jealous of what?” I retort.
“Of my fame, of course! I have more fans than you could ever dream of! And I did that without any fancy superpower!”
All things come in three, they say… My pride is definitely getting manhandled today... However, there’s no way I’m letting Screw-Up have the last word! I’m fine with sassy heroines. Jabs and quips are part of the game. But this Internet celebrity wannabe, with her grating voice, her dumb costume, her stupid dye…
… her well-toned body, her merchandising, her money, her legions of adoring fans, her cool nickname…
Okay, I’m jealous of Screwball! So what?
However, Trish grabs me by the collar before I can assassinate her.
“Enough is enough. Pipe down, and keep walking!”
**************
I and Screwball (there’s no way I’m mentioning her first in my narration) are escorted to a room used for convict transfers. Its purpose is to wait for the vehicle sent to fetch the prisoners. There is even a cell to lock the prisoner in case the sweat box is delayed.
There is also a platform above, inaccessible for the prisoners and protected by a railing.
A sentry is stationed there. Her name is Rosie. Her bright red hair, emerald green eyes, pale white skin, and numerous freckles on the face are proud testimonies of her Irish ancestry. Her haircut is a crown braid. Contrary to the other guards, she is carrying a firearm – a long-range rifle.
Two other convicts are already waiting in the room. Each is watched by a guard.
I know the two wardens by name. Lexie and Lara. Often called Tweedledee and Tweedledum by the inmates, because they are actual twin sisters, and are rarely seen apart. (Obviously, the nickname has been first given by a member of White Rabbit’s gang.) The twins are tall brunettes with hazel eyes, and tanned skins. Lexie has a long pixie cut with a shaved left side; Lara has shoulder-long twin-tails.
The first prisoner is a white-skinned black-haired brown-eyed woman. Her hairdo is a collarbone-long square cut. Trapstr – or Michelle Meyer, if the rumors are correct – an other recently-caught villainess. It’s a bit weird to see her without her trademark sunglasses.
The second prisoner has a white skin, blue eyes, and light brown hair tied up into a short bushy ponytail. There are freckles on her cheeks. Jenna Duffi (with an ‘i’), a former henchwoman of the Wonderland Gang whose attempt to climb the ladder and become a costumed villainess failed spectacularly. Namely, she was captured right after she had assembled her own gang of crooks.
Lexie raises an eyebrow when she sees us newcomers. “These two are getting transferred as well?”
Kailee shrugs. “Looks like it.”
Lara chuckles. “It’s like the beginning of a bad joke. Carpenter, Screwball, Trapstr, and Blender walk into a van.”
The moniker makes me blush. “That nickname has not been validated yet!”
Screwball snorts mockingly. “Kitchen appliance...”
I feel my right eye twitch. This is the last straw. Not only was I denied to see the end of my dream, but now I have to put up with Screw-Up as well?!
“Oh, that’s it! You asked for it, punk!”
When Screwball is involved, violence isn’t the answer.
Violence is the question. The answer is ‘Yes.’
Homer Simpson, lend me your strength!
I grab Screwball’s throat with my cuffed hands to comically strangle her.
“Why you little-”
Jenna wisely takes a step back, while Trapstr starts to cheer: “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The wardens leap into action. Trish grabs me and pulls me away, while Lara and Lexie do the same with Screwball.
“Hey, knock it off you two! Prison is no place for fighting!”
Trish is interrupted by the sounds of a punch, a grunt, and a dull thud.
“Uh?”
All glances turn towards the sound.
We – guards and prisoners alike – first see Rosie lying face down on the platform above us, out cold.
Next to her, there is a woman clad in a black motorcycle suit, and black soft boots. An equipment belt is tied around her waist. She is concealing her head with a hood, and her face with a ninja-like mask covering everything except her eyes.
The figure clad in black jumps over the railing, and nimbly lands near us.
Convicts and wardens blink together. We’re all startled.
“Does- Does the ‘No Fighting’ rule apply to her too?” Jenna finally intervenes.
Kailee is the quickest to react. Brandishing her baton, she charges at the intruder, letting out a war cry. The unknown woman watches her with an amused spark in the eyes. The guard swings her baton, intending to club her enemy in the face.
The black-clad woman dodges her assault at the last moment. At the same time, in one swift move, she punches Kailee in the stomach. While the stab vest absorbs most of the impact, the guard still bends forward because of the hit. Her neck is thus exposed. One sharp hit of the edge of the hand knocks her out instantly. She collapses onto the floor, face down and butt up.
A sexy butt if you ask me, but that’s besides the point...
Trish, Lexie, and Lara glare at their fallen comrade, then at each other. The intruder has defeated Kailee in ten seconds flat.
Recovering from her surprise, Trish grabs her radio to call for backup. Unfortunately (for her), she only receives static.
The black-clothed woman taps a small device strapped onto her belt. “You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to find jammers nowadays…” she taunts. She’s using a synthesizer to change her voice.
Lexie and Lara attack her together. The twins must hope to take advantage of their teamwork.
The black-clothed woman nimbly dodges all their assaults. With a few calculated steps, she manages to lure the twins into ramming into each other. The two guards stagger, unbalanced. The intruder positions herself in-between them, and grabs each twin’s exposed neck with one hand. She presses a specific nerve on each.
Lexie and Lara let out soft moans, faint, and fall onto the floor, with Lexie lying on top of her sister.
Only Trish is left now. She’s holding her baton with shaking hands.
The woman clad in black shakes her head, pretending to feel contrite. “A shame prison guards can’t carry guns in cell blocks.”
Trish runs away, intending to get help the old fashioned way.
The intruder grabs a two-weights bolas strapped onto her belt, and throws it at the fleeing guard. The weapon entangles Trish’s legs. She falls onto the floor before she can reach the door.
“Shit!”
The warden grabs the weights. However, before she can loosen the rope, the intruder is on her.
“SHIT!”
“No naughty words, girl.” The black-clothed woman bends forward, wraps her arms around Trish’s neck, and applies a sleeper-hold. “Nighty night.”
With her legs bound, the guard doesn’t put up much of a fight. Once she is unconscious, the intruder lays her face up onto the floor. Then, she turns her attention to us.
Jenna, Trapstr, I, and Screwball are the only women left standing. We share uneasy glances.
I’m the first to finally speak up.
“I suppose… we should thank you?”
“Don’t mention it.” The black-clothed woman turned towards her. She pulls her mask under her chin, and removes her hoodie. “Partner.”
Dramatic face reveal!
She’s a light-skinned woman with jet black hair stylized into an angular bob and icy blue eyes. Her figure is athletic (and sexy and badass and sexily badass), with well-toned legs and arms.
I forget all dignity, and jump into her arms. I bury my face in her shoulder. I confess I bawled.
“Sparks! Thank God you saved me! You won’t believe what I went through! There were rough blankets! ROUGH! It’s even worst than in Montreal!”
Sparks pushes me away. “Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare get snot on me! Besides, you’re not out of here yet.”
In case you didn’t catch on, Sparks (real name Taylor Woodward) is my partner-in-crime. (I mentioned her to the red-haired journalist I mugged during my first heist. Surely you were paying attention during the previous story!)
However, Sparks is not exactly the expansive type. (Plus, I did leave snot on her shoulder.)
“And how will we break out exactly?” Trapstr intervenes. “We can’t just walk out of the building in broad daylight!”
Sparks rolls her eyes. “Oh gee, you’re right. If only there were four sets of disguise literally lying at your feet…”
Trapstr looks at the unconscious Trish, Kailee, Lexie, and Lara, lying and moaning on the floor.
“Oh. Of course.”
I chuckle. OWNED! When it comes to barbed comments, Sparks is an expert…
**************
My partner uses a grappling hook to climb to the platform and deal with the unconscious Rosie. (Of course, while she’s climbing, I gaze at her butt the entire time. She moves with the grace of a panther.)
We then use Trish’s keys to unlock our handcuffs, and drag the four motionless guards into the waiting cell.
I choose to strip Trish of her uniform, because she indeed was my favorite warden, so I owe her that.
First, I grab the legs, and unlace and pull off the shoes. Then I unclip the belt, and take it off. Next, I peel off the trousers. Finally, I unbutton the uniform shirt, lift Trish’s unresponsive upper-body, and pull off the shirt, then do the same thing with the stab vest.
Trish is left clad in white sports socks, striped pink-and-white boxer undershorts, a light pink tank top, and a hot pink sports bra. After a brief hesitation, I also take the tank top.
Once I am finished, I look around me to see how the others are doing.
When it comes to divesting a woman of her outfit, Jenna, Trasptr and Screwball are a lot sloppier – especially the latter. They are struggling to remove the trousers, or to pull the shirts off the arms. It’s clear they aren’t used to the whole ‘uniform stealing-gig’. At least when they are the ones actually stealing the clothes…
It’s petty, but pettiness is a bad girls’ privilege, so I allow myself a smile of satisfaction.
Amateurs...
Still, with some difficulty, they manage to pull through, and strip Kailee and the twin guards down to their skivvies – violet socks, purple tanga panties, and a dark blue triangle bra for Kailee; black socks, scarlet red french lacy panties, and a matching lacy demi-bra for Lexie; red-and-blue socks, rainbow-colored brazilian panties, and a matching multicoloured t-shirt bra for Lara.
“What do we do with them?” Screwball then asks Sparks.
The latter is standing on the platform, next to a scantily-clad Rosie who’s stripped down to her clover green boyshorts with a white waistband strap, white full-cup bra, and lime green socks. She throws a small knife next to Screwball’s feet.
“Hey! I’m not into hardcore snuff videos!” the blonde complains.
Sparks groans in annoyance. “Cut the prisoner uniforms into strips and bind them, dodo.”
“Oooooh…”
We craft our makeshift ropes, and use them to bind each warden’s wrists behind her back. We also bind each guard’s shoulders, thighs, and legs. Other strips of clothes are used as gags and as blindfolds.
Next, we slip into the discarded warden uniforms.
“It feels so good to be the one mugging a woman for disguise for once…” Jenna comments to herself as she is tying her shoes.
I can’t agree more! (Well, I’ve never been mugged myself, but I agree it feels good to be the one who does the mugging.)
Once we’re fully disguised, we lock the four bound-and-gagged underwear-clad wardens inside the waiting cell.
Sparks once again jumps over the platform’s railing, and nimbly lands onto the floor. (So badass!) She’s now dressed in Rosie’s uniform.
The real warden is lying in a blind spot of the platform, trussed up with black cables, and gagged and blindfolded with brown tape.
“Let’s go.”
“Do we have to take Screw-Up with us?” I can’t help but ask. (Don’t judge me. I can’t stand her.)
“Yes.”
Fiddlesticks…
**************
The corridor leading to the parking area is empty. We exit the building without encountering any complication.
“How did you find about us? Did Nudge help you?” I ask my partner once we are outside.
“Nudge gave me a hand, but I also had to look for outside help. We owe them a favor now.”
“Wow. Sounds like a bummer.” Screwball intervenes. “Anyway, thanks for the help. I suppose this is where we go our separate ways?”
Sparks grabs the blonde’s shoulder. “By ‘we’, I also mean ‘you’.”
“Sorry girl, but I’m a solo act. My viewers love that-”
Screwball suddenly finds herself with the tip of a blade near her chin.
“The people who gave us a hand don’t take kindly to ungratefulness.” Sparks tickles Screwball’s chin with the tip of her knife. “Get the point?”
(Heh! Heh! ‘Point’! I got it!)
“Y- Yes.” Screwball is narcissistic to the extreme, but she still has an instinct of self-preservation. Dead women can’t live-stream after all…
Sparks lets go of her. The blonde crosses her arms, and pouts, but doesn’t make any other attempt to leave.
“Now, our ride is here.” Sparks shows us a prisoner transport vehicle, which is the size of a long van, with small tinted windows.
Jenna frowns. “Uh. This is a sweat box.”
“Great deduction, Sherlock. It’s the one which was supposed to transport you four, yes.”
“Don’t you think the driver will find it suspicious no prisoner is embarking?”
Sparks rolls her eyes. “Because you think the woman sitting behind the wheels is still the real driver?”
Jenna chuckles awkwardly to conceal her embarrassment.
I feel a little bad for her – can’t blame a rookie for doing rookie mistakes. Plus, she’s not Screw-Up.
“Newbie…” Sparks complains. “You have a lot to learn…” She turns towards the others. “Now, everyone, all aboard!”
We’re going to leave the prison using the very vehicle which was meant to transfer us…
That’s…
“BRILLIANT!” I hug my teammate. “You mad genius! You thought of everything!”
Once again, Sparks keeps me at arms’ length. That’s her way of being affectionate “Yeah, yeah, I’m awesome. I know. Enough with the mushy stuff!”
She opens the sweat box’s back door, climbs inside, and invites us four runaways to follow her.
“Don’t step on the driver.” she warns.
In the middle of the van’s back, an underwear-clad woman is lying. She’s black-skinned and black-haired, with a slim figure. Her haircut is neck-long cornrows. She’s clad in a white thong and a matching demi-bra. Her wrists and ankles are restrained with black zip-ties. She’s tape-gagged, and blindfolded with a sleep mask held onto her face with tape. Her ears are also plugged. Currently, she’s deeply asleep.
We’re careful to not walk on her, and sit on the seats meant for the prisoners.
Sparks closes the door, and knocks on the window allowing the driver to see the back of the vehicle. “We’re good!”
A pale blond-haired woman sitting behind the wheel answers with a thumb up, and drove off. She’s wearing the chauffeur’s uniform: a white short-sleeved uniform shirt, a black cap, black trousers, and black shoes.
Alright, Nudge is here too! My team came for me! I feel invincible!
We’re stopped at the gates, but the sentry stationed at the booth is clearly bored out of her mind. She carefully checks the vehicle’s authorization to leave, but doesn’t bother to look inside the van.
I wonder if Nudge had a hand in her lack of motivation… Don’t understand how? Don’t worry and be patient. All things come in due time.
Five minutes later, we are once again free women.
In the back of the sweat box however, in spite of the successful escape, the atmosphere is a bit tensed.
Screwball is still sulking, and Jenna doesn’t dare to open her mouth out of fear of being ridiculed again.
Therefore, Trapstr is the first to break the silence. “So… I may be grateful somebody helped us – even if it was self-interested… but I’d also like to know what I’m getting into… I want to see if it beats staying in jail.”
Sparks starts to explain: “The man who helped me is as powerful as he is busy. He has great plans, but little time to micro-manage everything. He needs help – subcontractors, if you will. When he came across the info you four were locked in the same place, he realized the Department of Justice was unwittingly offering him a ready-made team of operators.”
She points at me. “A mistress of disguise...”
She points at Trapstr. “… a computer expert…”
She points at Screwball. “… an acrobat who can climb any building…”
She points at Jenna. “… a handywoman for the menial tasks…” (Jenna huffs in annoyance.)
Finally, she points at herself. “… and some muscles.”
“What about the driver?” Trapstr insists.
“Nudge? She comes with the package. You wanna hire Charlotte and I, you have to hire her. You don’t need to know more.”
Jenna, Screwball, and Trapstr share glances.
I had a hard time paying attention to the end of the discussion. Sparks had me at ‘team of operators’. My mind is racing.
“So you mean…” My voice starts low and solemn.
Then I raise my head. I see stars dancing before my eyes. “I’m assembling my first very own Syndicate!” I giggle excitedly. “Oh, this is the greatest day of my life! New York truly is the best city of the world! I was SO right to leave Canada! It’s been two months, and I already became famous, found a nemesis, was sent to jail, broke out of jail, and now I’m leading a syndicate of doom!”
“Uh… Who died and made you chief exactly?” Trapstr grumbles.
I ignore the snark.
“Don’t waste your time.” Sparks intervenes. “She won’t listen.”
Of course I won’t, I’m leader of an all-female Syndicate. It means I don’t have to listen!
“Are you two truly partners?” Jenna asks Sparks.
I frown. What is she insinuating?
But Sparks is faster to answer. “Yes. Why? Does it bother you?”
“No! It’s just… you don’t seem… very compatible…”
“Shows what you know.”
My heart melts.
“Oh Sparks, that’s just the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me! I could kiss you!”
She of course pushes my face away with one hand.
“I said ‘No mushy stuff!’.”
Sparks then lays her back against her seat, and glares at Trapstr. “Bottom line, we’re hired for what we do best. And we’ll be paid. Handsomely.”
“That’s all I needed to know.” Trapstr concludes with a shrug.
“I suppose I can’t escape it…” a resigned Jenna adds.
All eyes turn towards Screwball.
“Will I be allowed to live-stream my stunts?” the latter asks.
Sparks laughs briefly. “Ha ha- No.”
“Then the answer is-”
She sees Sparks making a show of cleaning under her fingernails with her knife.
“- obviously yes!”
Sparks puts away her knife. “Splendid! I knew under all the shallow narcissism and lame one-liners lied a reasonable woman.”
I snort. Screw-Up’s face is priceless.
Sure, I’ll have to put up with her. But on the other hand… I’m leader of a Syndicate of Doom now!
Plus, all good leader needs a minion they can push around. Screw-Up can fill the bill.
I raise a triumphant fist. “Alright! Team Awesome is assembled, and ready to enter the legend!”
There is a beat.
“Name’s gonna need more work.” Sparks comments.
**************
END
), but it's a light and enjoyable "prison breakout" story with some surprising return characters to keep this grounded in Marvel territory. I was particularly happy to see Screwball back, even as she once again has her ego taken down a peg.
) 
