The Enigma Box

"This leads to an inspection shaft that runs the length of the ship just under the helium bags," Swan explained. "We can follow it all the way up to my Nest, where hopefully they've just left your belt and bracelets for the time being . . . I may have figured out your little secrets, but I never shared the source of your powers with my henchmen."

Victory couldn't help smiling in spite of herself. In short order the two women, naked except for masks, had wiggled through the vent and into the horizontal shaft. It was a long, hot crawl, with her naked boobs hanging and swaying between her arms. This served as a constant reminder of her nakedness, which filled her with an exquisite sense of chagrin. Victory was stuck behind the Swan, following her invitingly bobbing tail and desperately struggling to avoid the tantalizingly erotic thoughts that the movement stirred within her until, eventually, they arrived at her boudoir. Together they managed to force open that vent as well and lower each other into the room. Everything seemed to be just where it had been left, minus the Swan's wing harness and gauntlets.

"Curses," the raven haired villainess spat. "He's taken my power items!"

Victory swallowed a squeal of delight, "But not mine!"

"First thing's first," Black Swan said, rummaging out a couple of towels and diving into the tiny shower stall to wash off the dust, grime, perspiration and assorted juices which had accumulated on her body. Victory struggled not to look as she waited for her turn, but she couldn't help herself. Her green eyes kept wandering over to admire the way the rushing water ran in rivulets over, under, and around the dark-haired girl's alluring feminine curves.

"Much better!" the Swan announced, climbing out of the shower and beginning to towel herself off. As Victory squeezed past her in close quarters, the opportunity was just too sweet to resist . . .

"HEY! Stop doing that!" Victory squeaked, as a soft female hand slipped slyly in between her butt cheeks and copped a feel.

"I'm so sorry, ma cheri," the other girl giggled. "You're too irresistible for your own good." As Victory showered, Swan turned serious. "Hurry up in there. While we diddle around, that clown who calls himself Black Eagle probably has his filthy hands on MY Enigma Box!"

Inside the shower, Victory had to bite her lip to resist making the obvious comeback. "I overheard you talking about that with the Centurion. What IS an Enigma Box?"

"Oooh, it's delicious!" the Swan said, looking through her armoire for fresh clothing. "It's an ancient treasure chest. It opens like a puzzle box, but it's so complex it has about fifty million combinations. It took me days to work out an algorithm; it burns me to think of that jerk taking advantage of all my hard work!"

Victory turned off the shower and stepped out. "But what's inside it?"

"Honey, you know I can't tell you that. There IS such a thing as the Supervillain Code! Anyway, once our little truce is over and I get my wings back, I'll have to fight you for it. There's no point in telling you what you're fighting for. Rest assured, it's incredibly valuable."

Victory toweled herself off as the thought struck her: I bet SHE doesn't know what's inside, either!

Elsewhere in the airship, the Black Eagle was sitting in a leather chair, struggling to get comfortable. The damn wing harness kept getting in his way no matter which way he tried to sit. He had loosened the straps as much as he could, but there was no getting around the fact that it had been designed for a woman's anatomy. The gauntlets were a little better. They had been originally designed by a man, but Swan had modified the metallic mesh to more closely snug to her hands. It was just a matter of loosening them again. But the Eagle wasn't used to having his strength enhanced by a factor of five. After accidentally crushing three coffee cups in a row, he had impatiently taken the stupid things off. How had the Swan made wearing this get-up look so fricking easy?

On the computer screen nearby, he could see images whizzing by as it ran rapidly through thousands of variables. Suddenly it stopped and let out a beep. "Solution found!" flashed in vivid red letters. Grinning, Eagle picked up the black nylon carrying case and took out the Enigma Box. It was a beautiful thing-not that he cared-a cylinder about a foot long and six inches in diameter, made of some dark metal with bronze highlights. Along its length were ten sections that could be turned, incised with hundreds of seemingly random lines and geometric figures. Using the combination that the Swan's computer had deciphered, he twisted the dials.

The box let out a quiet click! "I owe you one, boss," he said as he opened the lid, his grin turning into a look of awe at the strange, silvery glow that came from inside. He reached in . . .

Chapter Three

In the Swan's Nest, Victory had pulled her powerbelt out from under the plush bed and quickly buckled it around her waist. Instantly she felt the power of the item flooding through her lissome limbs once again! In the same vicinity she found her discarded halter top, refastening it around her neck and tucking her perky breasts back into it with some relief. Then she found her silver high heeled boots, and put them on. And finally her panties, pulling the plain white thong up her long legs gratefully. It felt indescribably wonderful to be covered again!

The Black Swan had gotten dressed as well, once again wearing her trademark black bustier, miniskirt and ankle boots. "Here you go," she said, tossing Victory another accessory; her pair of gleaming silver bracelets!

The heroine slipped the indestructible bracelets onto her wrists and felt whole once more. "Thank you!"

"Great," the villainess beamed. "So are you really going out in public like that?" She pointed down at Victory's lower body.

The heroine glanced down past her midriff, only then truly realizing she was wearing nothing but her plain white thong, that skimpy strip of nylon leaving little to the imagination. Victory blushed. "Um . . . well, I sort of, uh, lost my shorts . . . um, well down an elevator shaft."

"I might have something," Black Swan snickered.

Rifling through her armoire, she selected a skimpy little garment and tossed it to Victory. Holding it out the heroine realized it was a miniskirt, not exactly ideal crime fighting attire. However it was barely a shade off from matching her halter top exactly and it would at least spare her the humiliation of going into battle wearing nothing but her panties.

"Erm, thanks," Victory murmured putting on the skirt. It was extremely short, covering only her hips and booty while leaving her long, shapely legs fully displayed.

Black Swan was smiling at her gorgeous gams hungrily. "Oooh, tres chic!"

"Don't get any ideas!" the heroine blushed, remembering how Swan had seduced her in the utility closet.

Right at that moment, the deep, steady drone of the airship's engines, which had been so pervasive you almost didn't notice them anymore, suddenly changed pitch, falling off to a light murmur. The Swan raced to the big windows looking out the nose of the ship. "Oh drat! I was afraid of this!"

"What's going on?" Victory asked, joining her. Out the windows, she could see nothing but ocean to the far horizon. Directly below them was an island.

"We've arrived at the rendezvous already!" Swan said, moving toward the door. "Come on! We've got to stop him!"

"Wait a second," the heroine replied. "You'd better let me deal with this. If he has your gauntlets and wings, he'll be dangerous."

"I have no intentions of sitting this one out, honey," Swan snarled. "Anyway, he won't be nearly as expert with them as I am. You'll have no trouble handling him."

"Let's get moving, then," Victory said, rolling her eyes. She didn't exactly like it, but what could she do, leave the Swan tied up in her own boudoir?

The raven haired villainess had already slipped out the door. As Victory followed cautiously, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror beside the vanity. She had to admit the miniskirt wasn't a bad look, perhaps with some more modest underwear . . . The heroine shook her head, appalled at herself. She needed to focus on the matter at hand . . . making changes to her uniform could be considered once this nest of villains had been brought to justice!

Once out in the corridor, the Swan jogged to the left and gracefully slipped down a steep, narrow staircase. Near the bottom, the dark-haired villainess turned and placed a finger to her lips: Shhhh! Silent as a cat, she disappeared into the room below. There was a gasp, a thud, a brief gagging sound. "All clear," Swan whispered.

Victory followed into what was apparently the pilot room, with windows looking forward, control panels, and a big steering wheel. The pilot was unconscious in the seat with a length of black cord wrapped around his throat.

"You didn't . . . kill him, did you?" Victory said, feeling a little worried.

"Not yet," the Swan said absently, darting into the chart room. "I KNEW it! The Enigma Box is gone! Come on!"

She led the way back up the stairs and down the narrow corridor through the center of the airship. They met no one until they came back to the entry port, a two-story room fifteen feet wide and nearly forty long. The bulkheads were crammed with machinery and equipment lockers. In about the center was a big square hatchway set into the floor, with a winch mechanism hanging above it. The hatch was open.

The four remaining henchmen were standing around the hatchway guarding it, all of them carrying automatic weapons.

The Swan took one look and said, "They're all yours, ma cheri."

Victory grinned. The chestnut-maned heroine stepped forward brazenly, hips swaying, high heels clicking seductively as she strutted across the room. "Hello, boys! What's shaking?"

The guards looked up in surprise. "But you . . . " one of them said, glancing toward the utility closet where she was supposed to be tied up and helpless. " How did you . . .?"

"Figure it out later, chump!" yelled one of the others, lifting his rifle.

Victory leaped, her enhanced speed seeming to throw everything into slow motion. He was able to get off one shot that glanced off one of her invincible bracelets, and then the heroine snatched away his weapon with ease and slugged him across the jaw! With her super strength behind it, the punch snapped his head to the side violently and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Without so much as a pause, she was in the midst of the other three like a beautiful human whirlwind, punches and kicks flying in all directions, her brief little miniskirt swirling, flashing tantalizing glimpses of her tiny white thong. Two of the men were sent sprawling, clutching at their balls.

The fourth man unexpectedly jumped her from behind, his rough hands reaching out, grabbing her bare midriff and moving upward swiftly. The young heroine sucked in a sharp breath, too late realizing his intent.

"Hey! No!" she gasped as he grabbed her breasts!

Yanking upward on her clingy Lycra top, he exposed her wonderful globes in one quick motion, pulling the garment up and entangling her arms above her head. All the heroine could do was wince in embarrassment as her plump, round boobs bounced on display, their rosy nipples stiffening on the tips like little top hats. The henchman wasted no time grabbing her now vulnerable breasts, his hands squeezing her soft, fleshy mounds, thumbs rubbing across her sensitive nipples. In spite of herself, Victory closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan as an unwanted surge of pleasure rippled over her tight young body, overwhelming her with a feeling of weakness and submissiveness.

"You like this don't you, slut?" the thug murmured into her ear, pitching her bare nipples hard, making her hiss between her exquisite pearly teeth. "Why don't you get down? All the way down . . . on your knees."

"N-no . . . " Victory protested, feeling his hard body, his hard manhood pressed against her from behind. "You can't . . . "

"On your knees, I said!" he repeated, his rough hands kneading her two succulent melons, wringing another moan of desire from her. Victory desperately tried to think of what to do. She still had her power belt, making her five times as strong as he was, but with her arms bound together like this above her head, she was pretty much. . .And at that moment, there was a WHOMP! sound as the Swan clocked her captor on the side of the head with a rifle butt. He sagged to floor, releasing her.

"Th-thanks . . . " Victory sighed, awkwardly tugging her top back down.

"Where is that traitor?" the Swan demanded, grabbing the semi-conscious thug by the collar and jamming a pistol against his neck.

"Y-you mean the Eagle?" the henchman stammered, pointing to the open hatchway. "He-he's already gone!"

Chapter Four

The island below the airship was technically an atoll, the cone of a dormant volcano frowning over a crystal blue lagoon, the whole thing covered with thick, green vegetation. There was only one building, a rather cozy split-level house constructed on a prominent hillside by some long-forgotten millionaire. The ownership of the island itself had passed through many hands since then, because certain people often found it useful to have a sanctuary conveniently located far outside of United States jurisdiction.

Victory and the Swan quickly stowed the henchmen in the utility room for safekeeping and lowered two rappelling lines down the airship hatchway. Once they were safely on the roof, they took stock.

"Do you know the layout of this place?" Victory asked.

"Sorry," the Swan replied. "I've heard about it. It's sometimes used for high-profile underworld auctions. But I've never been here before."

"Okay, I can see two separate skylights," Victory said. "They're the obvious means of entrance. We'd cover ground faster if we split up. If you found him before I did, do you think you could keep him busy until I got there?"

The Swan grinned, cocking her autopistol and tucking it into her belt. "If I find him first, pray that there's something LEFT of him when you get there!" With that, the ebon-clad villainess dove into the nearer of the skylights.

Victory jogged across the roof. The other skylight was already open. She peered down, but the room below her was too dim in contrast with the bright outdoors sunlight to make out much of what was inside. Well . . . no sense in being bashful. If she was lucky, she'd take the henchman by surprise. Slipping her pert little booty over the coaming, the stunning superheroine dropped through into the room and landed squarely in her high heeled boots.

It proved to be a large chamber, like a theater. Victory was standing on the stage, a good sixty feet by fifty. Along three sides were hung blood red velvet curtains. On the fourth side was the empty auditorium with seats for about a hundred, paneled with dark wood. She could make out row upon row of empty seats . . . or were they empty? It seemed that there was something . . .

"Well, well, well!" spoke a masculine voice behind her. "I was just about to send up to the ship for you, and here you deliver yourself, right on time! That's what I call service!"

Victory whirled around. "Black Eagle!" she said, as spotlights came on, illuminating the whole stage.

The former henchman stood on the far side of the stage. He had taken off the Swan's gauntlets and wing harness and thrown them on the floor, next to a small table upon which sat a cylindrical object . . . from the villainess' description, it could only be the Enigma Box!

"I don't know how you got yourself untied, honeybunch," he said, grinning, his eyes roaming up and down her svelte, Lycra-clad body, lingering a moment on the miniskirt. "But that's just fine. It's gonna make it that much sweeter to have a little demonstration before the bidding!"

"There's not going to be any bidding, loser," Victory smirked, planting her long legs and cocking her hips smugly. "Why don't you surrender and save yourself some humiliation? You're not a real super-villain. Without the Swan's weapons, you're nothing but a common, dime-a-dozen, cheap-ass thug. You don't stand a chance against me!"

"Wanna bet?" With his left hand, he casually flipped open the lid of the Enigma Box. A silvery glow poured out like glitter. Before she could move, the thug had reached inside and pulled out a large oblong stone of some kind, gunmetal gray in color. In the next instant, the stone seemed to melt, and began to pour up the man's arm. It continued spreading until his entire body took on the same gunmetal gray hue and texture. He looked like he was made of living metal!

"Come on, then," he laughed. "Let's play, super-bitch!"

All too eager to put this poser in his place, Victory lunged forward, throwing a super-powered right punch straight at his face that should have thrown him through the wall. But to her horror, he caught her fist effortlessly with his left hand! Behind her purple mask, the heroine's lovely green eyes went wide with shock, feeling the overwhelming strength of his steel-hard grip.

In her moment of surprise, Black Eagle retaliated, his own right fist hit Victory's stomach like a battering ram, blasting all the air from her lungs! The girl doubled over, gasping desperately for breath. Before she could even begin to recover, she was clipped by an uppercut across the chest that launched her bodily across the stage.

He's much stronger like this, she thought to herself in alarm. Much stronger than I am, in fact!

"Was that real enough for you?" Eagle asked, standing back calmly.

"You think one lucky punch makes you a supervillain?" Victory groaned, rolling to her silken knees.

Black Eagle surged forward, roaring. This time the spunky superheroine used her enhanced reflexes and agility to avoid the attack. Cartwheeling right over his head, she caught him with a punch, and followed through with a kick in the ribs. His skin felt as hard as osmium steel, but the impact was enough to send him stumbling backwards. She smiled grimly. He may be stronger, but he was clumsy . . .

Victory pressed her attack, throwing two more lightning-quick punches that hurt her own fists as much as she did him. Quick as a viper his right hand snapped forward closing powerfully around her swan-like neck. The heroine grabbed at his wrist but was unable to pull it loose.

"Bonafide superheroine," he growled, pressing forward. "I thought you'd be stronger."

Victory found herself shoved backwards against the wall and pinned there. Frantically she squirmed in his grip, held by the weight of his hard body, but could not get loose. While she was trapped, his free hand reached down, slipping under her skirt and grabbing her prim mound.

"No! Get your hand out of there!" Victory squealed, dropping one hand to try and push him away.

"So tell me, just out of curiosity," he growled, squeezing her throat. "What would make me a real supervillain? Overpowering a superheroine?" His hand began to rub her soft spot. "Feeling her up? Having my way with her?"

"Nnnnngh-no," Victory whimpered. His touch sent a burst of tingles spreading across her narrow hips. "Get off!"

She shoved desperately and managed to push him away. She quickly followed up with a high roundhouse kick! But flustered as she was by his unwelcome touch, it did not come as quickly as she intended. Black Eagle snagged her exquisite ankle, and before she could react he drove his fist right into her pussy!

Victory cried out as pain ripped through her! She pulled her leg back, clutching her soft spot, her entire body trembling from the pain. Stunned, the gallant, green-eyed girl could offer no resistance as he plucked off her indestructible bracelets.