Bombshell - Riverside Origins Pt. 01

"Aigh't, ma'am," his tone dripped with sarcasm. "The fuck you doin' here?"

"I'm looking for a friend of mine, her name's Paisley."

His face shifted quickly from suspicion to anger, and he flashed a glance at Holly and Felicia. "What the fuck did you bitches tell her?"

"They wouldn't tell me anything," Miranda interjected. "But you seem like a man knows things, maybe you can."

Crash eyed her more seriously now. "I don't know shit."

"Y'know, I believe that," Miranda agreed quickly. "So how about we let the ladies get back to work...and you take me to see your boss."

"My boss?" balked the thick man.

"Your boss," she reiterated. "Shorty Sweets, right?"

"Who the fuck you think you are, bitch?"

"She da Blue Bird!" Holly chimed excitedly.

Miranda winced, holding up a hand. "That's not-"

"Shut the fuck up, ho!" Crash shouted.

"Look, Crash," Miranda said. "I'm not looking to bust anybody, but I didn't come down here without doing my homework. I know you're just a low rent thug, and I know who holds your lease."

"Fine," he spat the word. "You wanna see the boss, I'll take you to the boss." He looked past her to Holly and Felicia once more. "You fuckin' bitches get back work! I'll be back in twenty."

He turned without another word, crossing the intersection and heading for an alley halfway up the next block. Miranda followed after him, hoping she hadn't over played her hand. She'd heard the girls talk about a pimp named Sweets and his "punk-ass sidekick" Crash. But to be honest, she was still learning how to gather information on the streets.

They turned down the alley. It was dark, and the air was heavy with the stench from five or six dumpsters tucked against the walls. A little way in there was a doorway. Crash pulled it open and red light poured into the alley. He gestured for Miranda to enter. A second butterfly joined the one already fluttering around her tummy as she stepped past the thug.

Inside was shabby little bar. There were only two tables and one booth pushed way back in the corner. The actual bar looked like it had been built out of particle board and plywood. There was rap music playing from an iHome plugged in behind it.

There were only three people sitting at the booth. Two were girls, scantily clad and looking too young to be in any bar, much less one this sketchy. Between them was a man with a long face, and cornrowed red hair. He was wearing a leopard print vest, with a white long sleeve button-up. Several of the buttons were left open to show off a tattoo she couldn't quite make out. When he looked up at her, his mouth twisted in confusion, showing off a row of gold teeth.

"Who da fuck is you?" he asked.

"This that superchick 'at busted Johnny Fingers last week," Crash said before she could respond.

Miranda glanced back at him, unable to keep the smirk from her pink lips. "Guess you do know some shit, after all."

He shrugged and reached behind the bar for a beer.

"Oh shit," the man in the booth whistled. "You the one what busted Fingers? I gotta be honest, I ain't even believe that, you know Fingers be full o' shit most the time."

"I can only take a little credit," Miranda stepped towards the booth, hands on her hips. "That idiot was all over the security camera and he set off the alarms...I just made sure he didn't leave before the police got there."

"That stupid mo'fucker," he chuckled.

"And you must be Shorty Sweets," she said. "You pick up these girls by promising them candy?"

"Candy?" he seemed annoyed. "Shit, it's Suites, like the mo'fuckin' penthouse, cuz that's where I'm headed!"

"I told you that shit's confusin'," Crash said.

"Man, fuck you, you ol' Dave-Mathews-Elias-Koteas-lovin' mo'fucker!"

"Boys!" Miranda snapped. "I haven't got all night, so whatever it is, Shorty, how about you send the jailbait home so the grownups can talk..."

One of the girls started to say something, but Suites shushed her and scowled up at Miranda.

"She's lookin' for Paisley," Crash added.

"Y'all two head down to bed," the pimp said, never taking his eyes off Miranda. "And get them asses naked, I'll be in in a minute."

When they hesitated, he barked at them to hurry up. They scurried through a door at the back of the room, flashing Miranda dirty looks the whole way.

"You gotta train 'em young," Suites said when they were gone. "Otherwise they wanna think for themselves and shit while they 'posed to be workin'."

"Oh yeah?" Miranda glared at the pimp. "Is that what happened to Paisley? She start thinking for herself?"

"I don't know no Paisley."

Miranda grabbed one of the tables and flung it across the room! It smashed into the door with enough force to startle Shorty Suites where he sat.

Tactile magnesis was one of the powers provided by her suit. It allowed her to lift and manipulate any metal object she could touch. In this case; to throw an old metal table further and harder than her normal physical strength would have allowed.

"Try again," she said calmly.

"Damn, bitch is you crazy?" the pimp whined.

"You know, Fingers called me a bitch and he-" She was interrupted by a loud THUNK!

Miranda fell forward onto the table in front of the pimp as pain ripped through her head and blurred her vision.

Behind her, Crash was holding his beer bottle like a club. He opened it and took a deep swig. "Crazy or not, bitch is plenty dumb!"

He was also drinking in the sight of her bent over that table. The cheeky cut of her blue leotard was teasing the curves of her tight round butt.

"Fuckin' hot though..."

"Damn, bro," Suites whistled. "You kill her?"

"Nah, I don't think so..."

Miranda was barely clinging to consciousness as the room spun sickeningly around her. She felt big hands grabbing her ass but was too stunned to do more than squirm in protest. Crash groped and squeezed, tugging the leotard up so he could have full access to her peach-like cheeks. She tried to push up, murmuring a wordless objection, only to be shoved back down on the table. One of those big hands spanked her ass, stinging her firm flesh even though she was barely able to react.

"I thought this bitch was supposed to be super," Suites laughed, sliding out of the booth.

"Her booty's super tight," Crash grunted and spanked her again.

"Stahp et," Miranda gasped, turning over to get away from those big stinging hands. She clamored off the table, her legs wobbled and she stumbled right into Suites. He caught her easily, and she vaguely realized that at his full height, Shorty was probably more than a foot taller than her, even with heels on.

"You is a sexy fuckin' slut," he said, hooking a long arm under hers. His free hand immediately reached for her breast.

Miranda groaned in disgust as his gangly fingers closed around her firm bulb. She pushed against his chest, unable to muster any real strength. As she started to twist away, Suites slugged her in the stomach! The dazed blonde cried out as all the air exploded from her lungs. She doubled over, gasping for breath and he let her crumple to the floor.

"Where's all that tough talk now, bitch?" the pimp taunted. "Get her up!"

Before she had recovered at all, Crash was grabbing her narrow shoulders and pulling Miranda back to her feet. She sagged against him, her long legs bowing as she gasped for breath. Her head was spinning. She couldn't resist at all as the thug pulled both arms behind her back and trapped them with one of his own.

"Why you lookin' for Paisley, huh?" Suites grabbed her by the chin, lifting her glassy eyes to his. "You think you gon' save her? Clean her up, or some shit?"

"I just-" Miranda jerked away from his hand, still struggling for breath. "I just want to make sure she's safe..."

"Bitch, you ain't even safe," Suites laughed and grabbed her breasts with both hands.

Miranda groaned, humiliation rushing through her as the pimp began to molest her. Despite her disorientation, both sensitive bulbs erupted in anxious tingles. She could feel his long fingers squeezing and twisting her firm flesh, slipping over the slick material of her leotard. Her plump breasts felt small in his big hands as he squashed and jiggled them, getting more eager by the moment. Her nipples tightened, hardening against his palms and she had to swallow an embarrassing whimper.

"Get off me," she demanded weakly. "Let me go!"

"What?" he chuckled, continuing to fondle her. "But I thought you came to rescue that bitch, huh? Better rescue yourself first..."

"Rescue? Where is she, you bastard?" Miranda gasped. "What did you do to her?"

"Me? What did I do?" Suites snapped indignantly.

He stepped back and backhanded her like he would one of his hoes! Miranda cried out as her head snapped painfully to the side. Trapped against Crash's broad chest she had no defense. A wave of intimidation swept over the helpless heroine as he glared down at her.

"Bitch, I paid her, fed her, made sure johns don't rough her up," he grinned vilely. "Unless they paid extra."

"You're disgusting," she whimpered. "Where is she?"

Suites glanced at Crash and shook his head. "Persistent ain't she?"

"Bitch, don't learn," Crash tightened his grip and Miranda grunted in discomfort.

"You two scumbags ain't got nothing to teach me," she hissed. "I just want to know where she is."

"Fuck, who knows," Suites threw his hands up, looking all around. "I ain't seen the bitch in weeks."

"Whatever you did to her," Miranda whimpered. "I'm gonna make you pay!"

"Make me pay, huh?" he said, his eyes slithering down her body. "Speaking o' pay, y'know that bitch went missin' still owing me money, you such a good friend and all, maybe I should make you work off her debt." He stepped forward, reaching between her legs this time.

"Don't even think about it!" Miranda groaned, struggling against Crash's grip. He held her easily. Even if she wasn't dazed and weak, she wouldn't come close to matching his strength, and her tactile magnesis only worked on metal objects. She was trapped.

"Aw, c'mon I'd get a premium for your sexy ass," Suites sneered, his long fingers sliding over the slick material covering her pussy.

Miranda's green eyes widened in disgust as he began to rub. She wore a thong under the leotard (to prevent embarrassing camel-toe) but neither garment offered much protection as he pressed into her prim mound. Her hips trembled as unwanted tingles inched along her slit.

"Stop it," Miranda screeched, her stomach twisting as he kneaded her soft cunt. "Get your hands off me!"

"But I gotta test the merchandise," Suites's golden grin stretched ear to ear. His other hand adjusted the growing hardon in his own pants. "Make sure your shit's gourmet, y'know?" She twisted her hips but couldn't get away from that violating hand.

Miranda thrashed frustratedly but Crash held her tightly. His free hand reached around to cup her breast. As he began to knead the firm bulb, her nipple achingly scraped and strained under the thin Nandex. She shuddered in revulsion, feeling him getting hard against her ass as he reached across to grope the other boob.

Suites's strong fingers tugged aside her leotard and pushed under her panties. He didn't waste time spreading her pussy lips wide open to stroke the silky flesh within. When he bumped her clit, lightning raced through her torso and Miranda couldn't keep her eyelids from fluttering as she sucked in an unexpected gasp.

"You like that?" Crash murmured in her ear. "You fucken slut." He was grinding his bulge against her ass.

Miranda wiggled back against him involuntarily as Suites worked her clit. Crash was flicking and pinching her nipples, now rock-hard and clearly visible standing up under the blue leotard. She grit her teeth to keep from squealing, even as scintillating heat crawled through her hips and over her slim curves. Her pussy was hot and wet and getting slicker by the minute. Shame burned through the hapless blonde as her body succumbed to the unwelcome stimulation.

"Whaddaya say, bro, think we can make any money off this whore?" the pimp laughed.

His rough thumb continued grinding against her sensitive clit, driving urgent tremors through her body. She felt his long middle finger slide though her wet folds and find her defenseless hole.

Can't let him -- oh no! No please! She shook her head frantically, pleadingly, feeling the prodding. If Suites noticed, he ignored her and pushed inside. Miranda stiffened, lifting up on tiptoes but unable to get away from the penetrating digit.

Feeling the finger sliding and pumping in her vagina, Miranda's curvy hips began to twitch, matching the rhythm. Her mouth fell open, finally unable to hold back a sharp moan.

How can I -- How can my body be enjoying this? She wondered shutting her eyes tightly, trying but unable to ignore the pleasurable rush of sensations being forced on her by the pimp. Can't let him, gawd, I c-can't cum for him...

"Oh yeah, man," Crash replied. "Once she's broken in, she'll be a real earner..."

The thug adjusted his position slightly so he could slip his hand under her leotard. His palm felt rough and warm against her soft breast. Ice settled in her stomach. The feeling as his thick fingers found her nipples, teasing her flesh on flesh, sent shivers over her curvy figure.

Still, she noticed his grip had loosened. It was difficult to focus as the unwanted arousal nearly had control of her body, but as the men laughed and gloated, Miranda was finally able to squirm her arms into a better position.

"ENOUGH!" she screamed and activated a repulsor burst!

Crash was caught completely unaware. The force not only broke his grip but blew him backwards onto the floor.

Shorty Suites hopped back, his eyes wide.

Miranda whipped one hand forward, unleashing another burst that blasted the pimp backwards over the table and booth! She enjoyed his shrill shout of pain and confusion.

"The fuck...?" Crash groaned, getting clumsily to his feet.

"Don't bother getting up," Miranda hissed, throwing a vicious right hook.

Not only were her gloves made of the unique Nandex material, but the knuckles had been specially modified to amplify kinetic energy. Even in her weakened state, the force of the blow colliding with Crash's face was enough to send him headlong into the bar. He grunted in pain and slumped to the floor. She turned back towards Suites, who was fumbling a pistol out of his pants.

Dat's enough!" he said, pointing it at her.

"Take your best shot," Miranda sneered, readjusting her thong and leotard, both of which were now damp and sticky.

"Th-think I won't?"

Miranda scowled, resuming her confident hands-on-hips pose.

Suites snarled, aimed and pulled the trigger.

The magnetic field generated by Miranda's costume also protected her against metal objects, even bullets. The pimp's shot bounced off her chest, ricocheting into the floor. His jaw dropped. She threw out her hand, firing off another small repulsor burst that slammed his arm against the wall, knocking the gun out of his hand.

"Now, I want you to tell me what really happened to Paisely."

"I don't know, shit," Suites stammered holding up his hands defensively. "Bitch got strung out with some mo'fucker way I hear it. Probably OD'ed in a gutter somewhere."

He said it so casually it cut right through Miranda. Of course, she'd considered that possibility, but she didn't want to believe it. She'd befriended Paisley at the Riverside City Food Pantry. Paisley had asked Miranda for help getting clean and getting out of the city. Addictions could be cruel to anyone, but Miranda's gut told her something more was going on here.

"Who?" she demanded. "Where?"

"You think I know?" Suites said quickly. "If I did I'd be over there beating the brakes off dude and getting my bitch-" Miranda's eyes narrowed sharply. "-back." He swallowed audibly, shrugged. "You know what I mean..."

"Paisley told me that a lot of working girls have been disappearing around Riverside?" Miranda said. "You gonna tell me you don't know anything about that?"

Suites nodded a little too quickly. "I guess, some, yeah. C'mon though, bitches -err, women...you know they come and go out here."

"And no one really cares cuz they're just hookers anyway, right?"

Shorty Suites shrugged, started to nod but then shook his head, and shrugged again. "The fuck you want me to say to that...?"

"Well, guess what, I care!" she said, not really interested in his reply. "And I care how they get treated whether they're going to come or go."

"Cool!" Suites said quickly. "Me too. Shit. Whatever."

"Not what I hear," she said, taking a step closer, fists clenched. "But that's gonna change isn't it. I'm gonna start hearing about how Shorty Suites has changed, aren't I? How he pays fair and treats his employees with dignity and respect, aren't I?"

Behind her, Crash was getting to his feet again. He staggered towards the middle of the room. Miranda reached back, keeping her eyes on Suites. Another powerful repulsor burst blasted the bald thug across the room where he crashed into the wall. The pimp watched him slump to the floor, unconscious.

"...Aren't I."

"Fuck yeah," Suites replied quickly. "Everybody gettin' raises!"

Miranda frowned, and nodded grimly. She hated that anyone would let themselves get taken in by pimps like this, but she knew if she sent him to jail, or ran him out of town, some other scumbag would just take his place. Maybe she could make things a little better for his girls by putting the fear of...of...

Shit, I really need to pick a name, she thought.

"If I don't hear things are changing around here," she said flatly, heading for the door. "I'll come back and change your name to Shorty Cellblocks, got me?"

Suites was still staring wide eyed at his snoring goon and the wall crumbling behind him. "Yeah, whatever you say."

"Oh yeah," Miranda paused, glancing over her shoulder in pure disgust. "Go in there and send those two children home. Next time I'm here, I'll be checking IDs."

"Yeah, for sho," he mumbled. "Nothing but old bitches from now on! I mean women, ladies..." He stammered on but she was already gone.

Chapter 2

Miranda's head was throbbing by the time she flew down into her own backyard. It was a big house in the kind of neighborhood where everybody had tall fences built for privacy. None of her neighbors were ever likely to notice her coming or going, even by air.

That was a dumb plan, she admonished herself as she crossed the deck to the screened-in area of her back porch. I probably have a concussion... She was feeling dizzy and stumbled a bit coming through the back door.

Luna Gatsby was in the kitchen, going through the fridge as usual. She was a diminutive brunette, with an easy smile and big brown eyes behind a bigger pair of glasses. She had a cute, chubby figure which she preferred to keep hidden under loose sweatshirts and comfortable jeans.

"Back already -- shit...you okay?" she asked, noticing Miranda's unsteady steps.

"Some goon clocked me with a beer bottle," Miranda said, letting the brunette help her to a seat at the kitchen table. "But I'll be alright."

"How did that fucken happen?"

Miranda peeled off her blue domino mask, dropped it on the table and rubbed her aching temples. "I thought if I pretended to let them capture me, they'd talk more because I didn't seem like a threat..."

"That was a stupid fucking plan."

"Well, I didn't count on them actually capturing me."

"That's because it was a stupid fucking plan," Luna crossed her arms, looking at her like a disapproving sibling.

"It's not as dramatic as all that," Miranda sighed. "They just caught me off guard." And molested me a bit, but you don't need to know that... "As soon as my head cleared, I wiped the floor with them both."