The Scarlet Dove - Issue 04

Issue Four – Five Stories of Peril

Prelude

"Chase what the hell is this?"

"It's my new piece," replied the vivacious red head, standing across the desk from her editor. She was tugging nervously on the hem of her denim half jacket, which she wore over a form fitted, black and white stripped dress.

"Where's the damned Danvers piece?" he barked, scanning the stack of papers she'd handed him.

Ever since her ordeal with Tom Danvers the young reporter hadn't been too keen to write about him, not to mention her lack of desire to author a piece decrying the virtues of the Scarlet Dove, her own crimefighting alter ego.

"Well, I hit some dead ends in my research," she said, not entirely untruthfully. "But I noticed we don't have any style or fashion related pieces, so I banged this out...thought it might help boost female readership?"

"Goddamit, Chase," he snapped. "I like where your head is at!"

The young reporter couldn't repress a smile.

"I'm going to rush this to press for tomorrow's edition!" the editor went on, surprising her even more. "I want to run it weekly, congratulations you just became my goddam glamour girl!"

"Oh, well I'll still get to cover real stories too, right?" Starling stammered.

"Think I'm going to pay you for one article a week?" Ed balked. "Now get back to work!"

Starling walked out of the glass walled office, to find the bullpen area oddly vacant. Only Charlie from the mailroom was meandering about. Seeing her, he pushed his little cart her way, brandishing a stack of letters.

"Morning miss Chase!"

"Morning Charlie," she replied taking the mail. "Say where is everyone?"

"They're over jammed in the break room," he said. "Guess there's something important on the TV."

Charlie headed away, and Starling turned towards the breakroom. Sure enough she could see people actually spilling out through the doorway.

"Lacey, what's going on?" the red head asked, seeing her friend jockeying for position at the doorway.

"Something serious is going on down at the courthouse," the brunette reporter said.

Starling pushed in next to her friend, unable to get a good view of the TV, she listened intently. "...this breaking news comes with a frightening report from the Warden City court building." The anchor person blared in manufactured alarm. "During a bail hearing for several of the men affiliated with the notorious Scarpone family, the alleged hitman known by the alias Creole Creed staged a deadly escape! Two guards lost their lives trying to stop the dangerous assassin, and the court stenographer was taken hostage. Warden City PD has launched a city wide manhunt, however the whereabouts of both the fugitive and his hostage remain unknown."

"Can you believe this?" Lacey sighed. "It's like something out of a movie..." She turned to where Starling had been standing, but the red haired reporter was gone.

The Roof

Baker was in his would be office, in the back of the little diner just off the corner of Salt and Addy. He was cutting and bagging his newest batch with the help his new bodyguard, Filthy Larry. Suddenly his door burst open, and a stunning young woman strode through it!

Candy red hair fell around her soft, bare shoulders in thick lustrous waves, framing her face which was partially obscured by a white feathered mask. She had a pair of perfect, perky breasts tucked into a skin tight white bustier, sporting a golden dove emblem on the right side. She had toned, slender arms, with a pair of golden bracelets, which matched the belt wrapped around her trim waist. Below that, a pair of white bikini bottoms clung to her delectable hips, leaving her statuesque legs smooth and bare, down to about mid-calf where they disappeared into a pair of golden high heeled boots. The outfit left generous amounts of her porcelain skin on display, while clinging exquisitely to her hourglass figure.

"Alright Baker, time for your friend to hit the bricks," declared the Scarlet Dove. "I'm here for information!"

Starling did not want to be there but she had little choice. She had already nearly exhausted her list of contacts, and none of them had been able, or willing, to provide any information on the whereabouts of Creole Creed. Baker might be her last hope. Of course, this time she was coming in her superheroine persona, with no intentions of negotiating with the two-bit dealer.

Baker and a fat man who looked like he hadn't seen a shower in a few days, picked their jaws up off the floor and glanced at each other. The two-bit dealer gave a nod, and the fat man turned towards her.

"Boss don't have no appoint...OULPH!"

As he stepped forward to protest, the heroine kicked into a short torpedo strike, blasting him in the chest with both fists and launching him back against the wall. Baker's eyes popped wide as dinner plates seeing the display.

The superheroine turned towards him, placing her hands on her curvaceous hips. "Did he just call you 'boss'?"

"Been having some security troubles lately," Baker replied, his teeth practically chattering. "He's been working as my bodyguard."

"Seems effective," the heroine sneered. She snagged the dealer by the front of his dirty wife beater, and dragged him over the top of his desk. "Now, I'm looking for Creole Creed, so you can imagine I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Whoa! Whoa! I don't want to keep you," Baker stammered. "I-I can definitely help you with that..."

A short time later, the Scarlet Dove was soaring over the area known as little Armenia. According to Baker one of the Scarpones's safe houses was located in an old building there. She assumed it was a long shot, but it was also the only lead she had. The four story building had been abandoned for some time but it was not in terrible disrepair. She circled several times, ensuring there were no lookouts then landed on the roof.

There was an access door which happened to be unlocked. Starling opened it slowly, careful not to let it make a noise. Beyond was a long dark staircase, draped in cobwebs. Her skin crawled just at the sight of them. Clicking on the flashlight built into her bracelet, she crept down the staircase, trying to keep the webs out of her hair and every so often having to swallow a shriek when she caught sight of an actual spider skittering off into the darkness.

Some brave superheroine I am, she thought, hurrying the rest of the way down.

Top Floor

The Scarlet Dove burst out of the stairway, shaking her hair out frantically and thoroughly grossed out.

"Bon jour, mon cher," said an all too familiar voice with a thick Cajun accent.

Startled, the heroine jumped back, glancing around. The stair way let out into a short, thankfully spider web free, hallway on the fourth floor. At the end of that hall way, a man with dark hair and a rich complexion was perched on a folding chair. Creole Creed regarded her evenly, absently stroking the thick side-burns on either side of his angular face. He was wearing plain black slacks, with a white tank top and suspenders, not his usual dapperness.

An icy chill ran down Starling's spine seeing the hitman and remembering their first encounter. "Creed!"

"I recon' it'd be you comin' aft'me quickest," he replied.

"Yeah, well, you've got an appointment I'd hate for you to miss."

"Now see, dat's funny," he snorted mirthlessly. "Cuz I was jus'bout to tell you de same t'ing."

The young heroine arched one flawless eyebrow. "Oh really? And what appointment would I have?"

"De one wit' Don Tony," Creed snarled, standing up. "He be real un'appy wit' de way you been affecting his business, broke me out just to bring you in!"

"Now see that is funny," Starling said through grit teeth. "Cause I thought you broke out so I could bring you in...well, back in."

"You dumb as you is pretty, cher!" Suddenly he snapped his arm up, brandishing a pistol.

Fortunately, Starling's enhanced reflexes gave her an edge over his draw. She kicked into a short flight, rocketing forward and turning into a high kick knocking the gun from his hand. He retaliated with a left hook, which she easily dodged. Dropping low, the agile heroine cut his legs out from under him, and as he hit the floor she was already standing over him, shapely hips cocked in an arrogant pose.

"You'll have to excuse me," she snipped. "I just checked my calendar, and I don't have any appointments today!"

"We'll see, bitch, we'll see!"

As Creole Creed scrambled to his feet, Starling stepped back and threw her gorgeous gam in a roundhouse at head level. To her dismay, the hitman caught her kick and lunged forward with vicious upper cut. She twisted awkwardly, narrowly avoiding the blow but feeling the wind as it passed. The heroine managed to wrench her leg free, but before she could regain enough balance to defend herself, Creed's fist blasted her full force in the stomach! All the breath exploded from her lungs, and Starling doubled over clutching her midsection. His knee slammed into her face while she was still gasping for air, and the red head fell back onto her butt. She peered up at the man, feeling the sting in her cheek and sucking in oxygen.

"You quick but you ain't so tough," he spat, reaching again for his gun.

Starling acted quickly, diving forward she kicked the gun across the hallway. Creed snarled and reached for her immediately, snagging the front of her bustier! The red head rolled onto her back, twisting the garment and allowing one of her perfect breasts to slip out, into view. The red head let out an embarrassed little gasp feeling the air on her nipple but Creed's eyes were wide and staring. Taking advantage of the distraction, she curled her legs into her torso, planting her golden heels against his chest.

"You silly, bi..."

Starling kicked out with both legs, launching the hitman back against the wall! His head hit with a thunk, and he crumpled to the floor. The heroine kipped back to her feet, adjusting her bustier back into place and tucking her boob back inside.

"That is the last time you will call me 'bitch'!" she spat.

"We'll see," Creed groaned.

Already starting to recover the hitman scrambled through the door at the end of the hall. To Starling it sounded like he fell down a flight of stairs, which she realized must lead down to the next floor. She straightened and ran a hand through her crimson locks.

"You're not getting away that easy," the superheroine growled.

She moved through the door on high alert. Creole Creed was nowhere to be seen. Her heels clicked noisily as she proceeded down the stairs.

Third Floor

The next level was just like the fourth; hollowed out apartments with no doors. The young heroine crept into the hallway, in a wary crouch.

"Come out, Creed," she called. "I'm taking you in, face it like a man!"

Silence. Then a noise in one of the far apartments. It was soft, easily could have been some kind of rodent, yet women's intuition told her it was her prey! She moved swiftly towards the source of the noise, trying to repress a smirk as she pulled a pair of taser pins from her belt. Creole Creed was about to wake up in a jail cell, wondering what hit him!

She crept to the door way leading into that apartment, pausing for a moment, and listening intently. She could just make out the sound of a man's breathing.

The Scarlet Dove sprang into the room, arm cocked to launch her pins. Creed was leaning against the wall in the farthest corner. His arms flew up in apparent surrender.

"Guess we be makin' dat 'pointment after all," he sighed.

"I guess so," the heroine said, stalking towards him.

Suddenly a hand flashed in front of Starling's face and a damp rag was pressed over her nose and mouth! Taken completely off guard, the heroine gasped in surprise, sucking in the sickly sweet fumes of whatever chemical the rag was soaked in. Immediately her head began to spin. Her attacker wrapped his arm around her waist, trapping her left arm against her side! She grabbed at the hand clamped over her face with her right hand. Her green eyes flashed back to Creed in alarm. The hitman was getting to his feet, chuckling.

"Heheh, look like it be YOUR 'pointment we be makin'!" Creed hissed.

"Mmph! Mmph!" Starling protested even as the grip tightened around her!

"Yes, de chloroform dis a bitch, no?"

Chloroform!? Oh no! Starling thrashed in her attacker's grasp but already she was weakening. In desperation she yanked on his wrist, and pulled it away slightly allowing herself a precious few gulps of fresh air.

Too few! In short order the hand and rag were clamped firmly back over her face. Starling felt what little strength she had draining away, as the chloroform overwhelmed her senses. She squealed frustratedly into the rag, even as her desperate thrashing diminished to helpless squirming.

No! This can't be happening, Starling thought feeling her limbs going limp.

Sensing the heroine's weakness, her assailant let the arm around her waist drift north a bit. The trapped heroine felt him groping her breast, squeezing it tightly. She groaned in hapless protest, twisting but with nowhere to go. The rag clamped down a little tighter, and Starling realized it was hopeless...in moments she'd be unconscious and completely at their mercy.

At last she sagged into her captor's clutches, as her arms dropped limply and her knees buckled. She fought until the last moment, even resisting but unable to stop her green eyes from rolling back as her eye lids fluttered shut and unconsciousness took the young heroine.

Hearing her defeated sigh, Creole Creed and his accomplice laughed.

Second Floor

Starling came around slowly. Her vision was blurry and her head was throbbing. She knew she was in trouble but in her disoriented state it was something of a vaguely matter-of-fact dread at the moment. Shifting uncomfortably, she realized she could not move her arms. Trying to roll onto her side, Starling found she could not really move her legs either.

"Nnggh mmph," she tried to speak but found that there was a big rubber ball crammed into her mouth!

She began to regain her bearings, and quickly became aware of her predicament. Starling's arms had been folded behind her back, and bound forearm to forearm. It felt like some kind of straps had been used to bind her. Likewise, there was a thick leather strap encircling her torso, just under her breasts, which kept her arms pinned in place. Looking down she could also see that her legs had been strapped together just above her knees and at the ankles. The binding was thick leather straps. Noticing her glossy pink toe nails, freshly pedicured, the captive heroine saw that her boots had been taken, as well as her gold utility belt and armbands. All of this topped of course, by the disgusting taste of the ballgag strapped into her mouth.

As panic welled in her chest, Starling rolled, twisted, squirmed, but could not find any slack or give in her bindings. Eventually, she slumped onto the dusty wood floor, wondering how she would get out of this one!

"Dat's right, cher," came the voice of Creole Creed, giving her a start! "Ol' Creed be real good wit' de straps, no?"

"MMPH! Nnnggh!" the heroine growled, rolling to face the hitman.

Creed was sitting not far off, back in his steel folding chair. One hand was stroking his bushy sideburns, there was a wicked grin on his lips. Staring at that expression while she strained hopelessly against her bonds made Starling's stomach twist nervously.

"Like I said, Don Tony be on his way, you got a 'pointment to keep," Creed said. "But before he get here, dere dis other t'ing I got to tell you." He leaned forward, that grin stretching wolf like across his face. "See, eva since dat first night, you been on my mind, cher. Dat beautiful smile... dat knock out body...dat tight, shaved cunt!"

Starling couldn't help but squirm, almost feeling his gaze slithering down her body. As he reminisced about their first encounter, the poor girl couldn't help but remember him having his way with her and the wretched humiliation of having him inside her.

"And I t'ink to myself," Creed went on, standing up. "I got to get in dat again!"

Now he began to unbuckle, unbutton and unzip his pants and the captive heroine felt a shiver roll through her body. As Creole Creed dropped his pants, her eyes felt drawn to the long dick hanging between his legs. Knowing he intended to violate her once again with that wicked organ sent shivers down her spine, and now she was nothing but a sitting duck!

The hitman knelt beside her, and Starling thrashed and squealed defiantly into her gag. He barely paid her protests any mind at all, straddling her curvaceous hips and pretty effectively pinning her down. He grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezing and giving them a playful jiggle. Starling growled, glaring up at him balefully. She could feel his warm, heavy cock laying on her stomach.

"Yesss," Creed hissed, peeling down her bustier and exposing her firm, ripe melons. "I didn't get to fully appreciate dese las' time, but dey is jus' 'bout perfect!"

The helpless heroine groaned in disgust, feeling his hands on her bare breasts, kneading and twisting, and rubbing his thumbs over her petite rosy nipples. The sensitive nubs tingled and stood up in response to his teasing, bringing a keen wave of embarrassment washing through the young woman. Starling grunted, straining against the straps binding her arms. She writhed between his legs but could not so much as turn away from her assailant. Realizing her utter helplessness, her resolve began to wither as Creole Creed groped and fondled her.

Sparks of warm arousal danced through her chest, and Starling felt heat rising in her neck and cheeks. Unable to resist the effects of the physical stimulation, weakened the heroine's defiance even further.

What is the point in resisting if he can turn my own body against me, she wondered as Creed continued to molest her.

After a few moments, the hitman slid forward, thumping his not quite erect cock right between her exposed boobs. Then he pushed them together squeezing her tits tightly around his schlong. His hips began to roll, shoving his member back and forth on her chest. The young red head could no longer stifle a disgusted whimper. She could feel the heat as his cock continued to swell and stiffen. She groaned in discomfort as his grip tightened, squeezing her breasts even more firmly together.

How degrading! She thought. He's just using my body however he pleases!

Creed's cock continued to harden, and then began to leak precum. The thrusting motion spread the juices around and soon Starling's chest had become a slimy slip and slide. She squirmed helplessly, groaning in revulsion...however the feeling of his thick, hot member gliding back and forth in the slippery tunnel between her tits sent a nervous, excited shudder rolling down her trim smooth stomach.

"Heheh, oh yes," Creed groaned. "Nothin' like a good tit fuck to get de motor runnin', no?"

The young woman wanted to scream "NO!" but the gag held her tongue hostage. She wiggled her legs within their bondage, but they were held tightly together, she could not get them free. Finally Creed stopped, releasing her breasts and moving off of her. Unfortunately Starling felt no relief. She knew where his next destination was likely to be, just like she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. Tears began to well in her emerald eyes, as the hitman grabbed the strap around her ankles and pulled her legs up into the air. She felt his hand run down the back of her thigh, and grab her round butt cheek. Then he began to prod and stroke her defenseless mound over the thin white spandex of her bikini style bottoms.