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 A Ladies' Night Out (All parts of Four)

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TerishD


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PostSubject: A Ladies' Night Out (All parts of Four)   March 9th 2012, 4:20 pm

A Fight for Recognition
Story Two: Part One (of Four)
A Ladies’ Night Out

Introduction to the Players
The young lady was beaming with joy. The night had been wonderful. It had been entertaining watching her, as I learned how her small frame normally put her at a disadvantage. Most people considered the ladies of her country to be large massive women, so were at first surprised to see her light form and then curious about whether she was really in her upper teens. Neither Mrs. Lorshein nor I had treated her as a child, and when the elder lady decided it was time for bed she did not include her young companion. Realizing that the night was not coming to an end had the young lady display a grand smile.

Cindy displayed some pleasant cheerful energy when Mrs. Lorshein offered to allow her and me to have some private time. The social had been enjoyable, but not really the young lady's idea of fun. I have to say that it seemed that I had also surprised her by not being as reserved as others had told her. I felt that she desired some time to actually learn more about me. It took me by surprise when Mrs. Lorshein stated that her nurse had driven over in my sports car, so was available to drive the Cadillac. I guess that I also displayed some pleasant cheerful energy, as Cindy hugged me in a manner stating that she expected good things to follow.

I was only of average height with a fair complexion, so did not consider myself that physically attractive. Cindy however had made enough contact with me to notice that my body was well muscled. Admittedly, the suit that I wore had been tailored for my form, so I moved in it rather well. While I might not have had size and appearance on my side, the young lady could tell that I took care of my body.

Mrs. Lorshein was not my mother, but I treated her with the utmost courtesy. Cindy noticed that we did not speak as if there was a different in ages, but acted as close friends. We freely told jokes and stories of recent events without any fear of what we said possibly being taken improperly. The young lady had been warned by the elder lady not to speak of the past, but learned just how verboten the topic was after making a few inquiries. Cindy however did give an indication that she was rather interested in me, so desired to pry. She however was courteous allowing that the first and probably only date was not the time.

After waving to the elder lady until the car was lost to traffic, I turned and asked my companion, "Would you mind walking?"

She smiled at the suggestion. "It is beautiful idea."

Cindy was not that good at English. I however had never once during the evening complained about her use of words, nor did I ever mention her accent. She could tell that I listened closely to everything that she said, although did not seem able to determine whether I actually had problems understanding her or simply wanted her close to me. Honestly, a few times I had guessed incorrectly about what she had said, but accepted each correction with the tolerance of a man who allowed that a lady could change her mind. I however did explain my recent change of plans to assure that there was no misunderstanding.

"I can take you out for more dancing, if you desire. I know where to get some food and alcohol, if that is what you would like. I have had enough of both however, and would just like to walk for a time." As I took the lady's arm, I added, "I have an errand to run."

The young lady looked at me with an expression of having heard the words before on her visit through the states, but still was having trouble with an accurate translation. "You have business?"

My smile actually increased as I replied, "Yes, you could say that. I need to bring something to a friend."

I proudly escorted Cindy to my car. It was a nice dark-green sports car. Instead of opening a door, I moved to open what little of a space the car called a trunk. The young lady however looked through the windows to visually inspect inside the vehicle. I could not help to continue to smile as I heard her exclaim that she could not believe that someone who had a car like this did not regularly have a lady on his arm. Even with Mrs. Lorshein to chase away some young women, Cindy still had to admit that no lady came to claim some time with me. I honestly thought that the young lady would be put off upon finding me treated almost as much of a stranger as herself. Cindy thus asked another question that normally applied to those who drove such a car.

"Are you rich?"

"Not really. I am however involved in some financial dealings that are developing nicely. If I want something, I can generally get it."

Okay, Cindy decided to ask the other question. "Why could you not get a date for tonight?"

The smile surely left my face as a declaration that I did not like that question. Like my history, Cindy felt that she had touched a delicate subject. Hoping to restore the smile to her face, I worked to put one back on mine as I held out a hand.

"I normally wouldn't be caught dead going to such a party. Mrs. Lorshein threatened me repeatedly to get me to be your companion."

Cindy decided to get some background to her escort. There had not been many opportunities during the social. Truthfully, during most of the free time it was me who sought to learn things about her. Cindy felt it was now her opportunity to turn the topic around. While some history was taboo, I did allow some background relating to my present situation. Cindy thus learned that I was from the local area, if one considered that a small town about forty miles from the college to be in the general local area. Presently I was a sophomore majoring in Physics with a definite intent to continue until gaining a doctorate. As for why I did not have a girl friend, I clearly stated a need to first secure my future.

The body of water was not a lake, but a wide deep section of a river. The water appeared calm, although I explained that around my town the river was rough. The terrain was mountainous, so Cindy accepted that what I said was the truth.

For the first time tonight a woman rushed to me. Wondering what Cindy would think, I broke from her to hug the small black woman that came into my arms. Behind the black lady strode a tall muscular black man, but he said nothing. The cheer between her and me was not affected by his cold stare.

I handed the box to the one who had rushed to me while saying, "Okay Break Neck, here are your shoes. Professor Nathan said that we lectured you enough earlier, so just to hand them to you."

The black guy blurted out, "What'd you tell her, man?"

Cindy’s face displayed worry for me due to the way that the black man had spoken, but I understood his attitude so showed no fear of him. "I told her that she was working with mutually incompatible forces. The very forces that holds her microscopic ball bearings in place also grabs any other small particles. The chemistry of the soup prefers her ball bearings, but what her feet encounter is a complex versatile arrangement of elements and chemicals of which a few get caught up. The shoes might work for ten hours, ten minutes, or ten nanoseconds."

The small black lady translated for her large companion, "He said that the reason I had so much success in the bank was that they regularly cleaned their floor at night and the robbery occurred early in the morning."

The black guy stated his interpretation of what he heard, "You told her that she was going to get killed."

While I understood his concern, I still stood up for the lady by saying, "No, the bike will get her killed. The shoes just will not work."

"I am going to hold you responsible for any harm that comes to Sherita."

"Bull crap! Why do you think that I call her Break Neck? She was already running around as Ballet Slipper when I met her. I am into high-energy plasma. It is Professor Nathan who is into sub-atomic interactions. Blame him."

The muscular black man decided the best way to silence the smaller man was to put him down. "You are right. I can't blame you. You are into nothing. You are only a sophomore."

I did not act offended, but moved to calmly hug my date while replying, "Right, so you cannot hold me responsible for anything. I am just a lab stooge and delivery boy."

Strangely, the black guy seemed relieved hearing those words. "You should listen to the man, Sherita."

The one spoken to was looking at the shoes as she replied, "I can take care of myself, Brian." The small black lady turned back to me to say something, but had her attention distracted by the other lady. "Who do you have with you, Larry?"

I broke my close position to my date in order to make a proper introduction. "This is Chiandria, Cindy, Serkovorga. She is an exchange student from Germany. She was supposed to go to a school in New Orleans, Louisiana, but recent events and politics had her brought here. There was a United Nations social at the community center, and Mrs. Lorshein forced me to escort her. Cindy, this is Sherita and Brian Clausen."

Sherita held out her hand as she said, "Don't let Larry get you down. He lost his childhood sweetheart in a vicious murder. He is a nice guy however, and could use a girl."

The large black man did not approach, but his voice did sound friendly as he said, “Don't ask Sherita any more, because that is all she knows."

"And I had to get a fellow law student to pry that from him."

The dark eyes of the lovely German turned to me while saying, "It must have been horrible."

"I do not like to talk about it." I turned to the other lady. "Break Neck, be careful."

The black lady moved to kiss me as she returned, "Don't worry about me, Larry. You and Brian have more than enough reasons to say, 'I told you so,' if something goes wrong."

"It is only a matter of time," the large man grumbled.

"I'll be all right, I promise."

I found Cindy to return my embrace upon returning to her. I considered the act to be positive, so had a smile return to my face. Turning away from the other couple, I found my companion to break from me just enough so she could look back to them. Seeing them also walking together, Cindy embraced me while deciding to chance asking me a question.

“Who are they? They seem to be someone special.”

“Oh, if you pay attention to local news you will figure it out. Don’t go blurting it out however, but just keep watching. Sherita does not need any more attention than she is already getting.”

From the expression on Cindy’s face, I suspected that she was working to fully translate the words to fit the events, and finally just had to ask another question. “Sherita? You called her Break Neck.”

“Yeah, because she is going to break her neck, and that is if she is lucky. Now, however, let me discuss your own neck. What do you want to get it involved in?”

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Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market.  "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.


Last edited by TerishD on March 24th 2012, 10:23 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Part Two   March 14th 2012, 3:07 pm

A Fight for Recognition
Story Two: Part Two (of Four)
A Ladies’ Night Out

Ballet Slipper
Brian’s face could appear appropriately sized for his large body. Some guys had small faces with some even appearing to have small heads. He was older than me, so always larger than me, and always intimidating. His actions to me however were always gentle, and I saw concern in his features as he asked me a question.

“You aren't pissed that he is with another girl?"

My parents told Brian to watch over me, but I actually loved him because he did not take those instructions so literally. "Larry? He and I have never dated."

"I heard a number of guys say they saw the two of you together."

"He needed to learn about my shoes so he and Professor Nathan could help me perfect them. They might still not be working properly, but they work a lot better now than they used to."

"I was told that he bought you dinner."

Hearing Brian speak of information that he gained from others did not cause me to get mad at him. I did consider myself one fine package for a man to obtain, so could not help but be pleased that other guys were noticing me. The words however did cause me to wonder just how secret my double life was. Knowing some of Brian’s friends, I actually believed that they would perform some deed to get me to go into action, but instead of finding positions to watch my superhero identity, they would have cameras positioned to watch as I changed clothes. Not wanting to get mad at my brother should he move the conversation in that direction, I decided to simply change the topic.

"Larry is not gay, but I am surprised that he is with another woman besides Mrs. Lorshein. I hope that he and Cindy have a nice evening. I am however going out tonight looking for trouble."

Brian attempted to get me to consider doing something else by talking about how peaceful the town was presently. I did not argue with the large man, but simply replied that I was not going to sit around the house. My elder brother again spoke of his opinion that I should take my shoes to a large company and have them buy my technology. I again lectured him about my desire to have a large company pay me for a finished product and not simply a potential concept.

We pulled into our house. No one would suspect that a superhero lived there, as the number of people would not be able to keep the secret. However, the large family presented a problem from the first, so I quickly made myself space in a back storage shed. I had to fix it up, as my experiments demanded a super-clean environment. My family quickly became uninterested in what I was doing, and now that I had achieved some success they had completely blanked out whatever was happening. I thus maintained my superhero identity on the limited space of my family homestead without anyone, beside my older brother, being aware.

Before getting out of the car, Brian promised me that my bike was tuned up and filled with gas. He worked at the local bike shop, and expected to soon managed his own. He liked the sound of a certain style of two-wheeled machine, but did not press his preference upon me. Not that he could, as my bike was chosen from an old discarded machine and not from me shopping around for the ‘perfect’ means of transportation. Brian had helped me fix it up, and his aid ended up with the cycle that the female superhero in town rode having a noise all its own. As I changed into my superhero outfit, Brian started the motorcycle and assured himself that the engine sounded proper.

The evening was boring. I sat on my bike in my Ballet Slipper costume at a street corner without anyone bothering me. The police scanner only occasionally broke the silence with regular reports. I really wanted to use my new shoes, even for practice, but kept reminding myself of the lectures I had heard along with actual situations that had occurred giving verification to the words. To use the shoes now could mean that they would not work when needed. I thus leaned against my bike while considered going home.

I thought about Larry calling me Break Neck. When I first told him about my secret identity, he mentioned seeing me on surveillance cameras and thinking that my shoes looked nothing like ballet slippers. The mechanics of the footwear forced them to be made as boots. Wide floppy brims were added to hopefully make my feet appear small and delicate. Working with the physicists, a different type of shoe had been chosen that did not appear as bulky as boots. While Larry called me Break Neck, the shoes that he gave me looked more like those fitting my chosen superhero name.

Honestly, though, almost nothing about my costume had anything to do with ballet. I rode a bike, then would zip about using my fancy shoes. Thick leather with some extra padding thus covered my body. I had a yellow costume, and would stop for photographs while wearing it as I considered it my official color, although I had different color patterns depending on mood and weather. Some said that my dress-like outfit caused me to look like a cowgirl without the hat, so I stopped wearing that one. What covered my head was a lace covered wire mesh that prevented a good look at my face, along with preventing anyone from noticing that my long reddish-black hair was a wig. It did add a negligible amount of safety to my head, although not enough to satisfy my brother. The police admitted that the headgear was really not legal, but considered nothing I was doing as safe so saved any lectures. There was a layer of frill about my waist to simulate a tutu, but I really looked nothing like those who wore ballet slippers.

The name Ballet Slipper actually was chosen to assure that no one connected me to my superhero identity. Honestly, I resisted the name Break Neck because I felt that some people that knew me would make a connection should I use that name. I thus continued to think of myself as Ballet Slipper when in costume.

It was a friendly wave to the police car, but its driver decided to pull over. "I normally arrest those ladies I find standing on a corner, Ballet Slipper."

The local cops were not unfriendly to the vigilantes they had in town. Minnow did not talk, but the police seemed pleased that I would. I thus knew that they considered us superheroes as basically special citizens doing their own patrol. Neither Ballet Slipper nor Minnow butted in on police business, and when either felt a need to push the extent of their authority there was normally more than enough reason and evidence supplied to excuse the action. To be honest, the police had enough problems for their meager paychecks, so simply felt no need to trouble those people who were actually attempting to help.

"I am sorry, Officer Williams." I did talk to the police enough to recognize most by sight. "I could park elsewhere."

"It’s okay, Ballet Slipper. Drop by the station. We got a medal for you."

"I got nothing else to do tonight."

I was about to be friendly and simply move to the police car to speak in a more direct manner. I however heard the officer’s radio and my scanner blurt out a report. We both listened to the information about a couple of men having robbed a local convenience store. Hearing that a good amount of money had been taken, both the police officer and me readied ourselves for more trouble. Criminals tended to believe in fate, so would see one successful job as a sign that lady luck was looking in their direction. The officer was about to drive off as I started my bike, but he felt a need to assure his dominance.

"This is a police matter, Ballet Slipper."

"If I see you at one place, Officer Williams, I promise to move to another. One of us is bound to get lucky. If it is you, I will go home."

I rode off accepting that observant criminals would spot me as easily as the police cruiser. The official vehicle was clearly marked and tended to be carefully driven, so those watching usually saw it first. While I would rush upon a crime scene, my motorcycle made noise and my costume was very apparent. The only hope that either of us had was that the criminals would be more concerned with their activities trusting in speed to get them away before anyone recognized their actions.

The officer of course went to the most direct convenience store methodically checking on the safety of others on his patrol route as he worked to the scene of the crime. I used my knowledge of the territory to race to an establishment that I figured would be next in line to be attacked. Seeing that one safe, I directed my motorcycle to another. I could not help but smile as I approached the third convenience store to see armed figures leaving.

Larry had declared that it would be my bike that killed me. That caused me to wonder if he had ever seen me in action. Our association tended to focus on my shoes. I however did spend most of my time on the machine, and truthfully did perform most of my stunts with it. The bike did its unadvertised Ballet Slipper tricks with non-hightech squirted layers of oil. Larry and I did discuss transferring my technology to my tires, but we had never advanced such conversations into any real experiments. I went into action on my bike simply figuring that Larry was a car person.

The criminals pointed their guns at the superheroine coming at them, but saw my style of arrival and became more concerned for their persons. Sliding sideways on my motorcycle right at them I guess had them figuring that they were in danger. The three men scattered as my wheels hit the curb beginning the foundation of the building. The robbers probably would have fired if I would have stopped. I however was in full control of my situation, and sent my mass up lifting the bike. The momentum from the motorcycle that would have been absorbed by the concrete was used to spin both of us in the air. I contorted my body to direct our fall towards the hood of the truck parked improperly in front of the doors. The criminals hesitated before jumping into their escape vehicle, giving me time to rev the engine of my bike before releasing the break enabling me to jump from the hood and safely race away.

I curved back towards the truck taking pictures with a camera set in the front of my handlebars. Some evidence did help me from being fined. I made certain to get a position directly behind the vehicle in order to assure a good picture of the license plate. I saw guns, but the criminals were now inside the truck and would have had to lean out too far to have a good shot. They instead screamed to the driver of the truck to race away.

Hearing the truck's engine grumble as it tried to accelerate caused me to laugh. While I had made a spectacular arrival, I felt that the chase would be short. Feeling not stressed for time, I used my radio to call the police with pertinent data.

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Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market.  "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.
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PostSubject: Part Three   March 19th 2012, 3:54 pm

A Fight for Recognition
Story Two: Part Three (of Four)
A Ladies’ Night Out

Past and Present
I continued to think on the dangers that Sherita courted with her use of unreliable slippery surfaces in tense deadly situations. I however did not allow my private thoughts to spoil the time with my companion. I took Cindy to a place where the music was loud and the dance floor was packed. I was not a good dancer, but I stayed with my companion on the floor and she made actions toward me that had me feeling that she appreciated my presence. Cindy was not old enough to purchase alcohol, but I ordered what she wanted then drank from her glass while she drank from mine. Overall, I did my best to leave my companion with a good impression of me while considering the problems that Sherita could be facing.

I actually knew why Mrs. Lorshein had forced me to be a companion to this lady. My previous girl friend had also been named Cindy. That was one thing strange about Mrs. Lorshein. While she understood the amount of dedication my life demanded of me, there was the drive to get me to also spend time with women. It was more than a longing to see me healed of the earlier tragedy, but a real belief that the right woman would lower the stress upon me. I would not deny the possibility of such, but I never would allow the conversation to advance beyond that. I certainly did enjoy spending time with females, so never fully resisted any attempts to have me be a companion to a lady.

Cindy did not attempt to pry more into my past, at least not directly. She wanted to know about the people that she had met. I explained that a couple of superheroes moved about the city, and she had met one of them. Ballet Slipper had not been active long, but she was making a big impression. The female superhero could be seen moving about during daylight hours and would show up for the more serious infractions. There was another superhero, named Minnow, who was seldom seen during the day and generally did not make a scene when he did go into action. Of course, I said nothing that would give the impression that I had anything in my past that would connect me to the Minnow.

Cindy did ask questions about the male superhero, as his tendency to avoid major trouble had recently been broken. I could not deny that she had seen the news reports of Minnow’s rescue of another exchange student. Cindy found that information exciting, and explained her bubbling countenance by saying that it was because of that rescue that she was now in this town. The fact that the hero had managed the safe rescue of one exchange student along with powerful indictments against those that performed the crime had resulted in Cindy's rerouting by those that operated the exchange program to display their faith in the city. She then pressed for me say more about the incident, explaining that the subject of American superheroes fascinated her. I sighed, although did have to admit that I enjoyed the topic as well. With the encouragement of the young lady, I kept the topic of the Minnow going the rest of the night.

It was well passed curfew, but I knew that it was not enforced. I thus did not rush Cindy back to her dorm, or worry about her after dropping her off. She did mention being willing to spend time with me at my home, and I had enjoyed being with her so spoke of hopefully having further dates where we tried other activities. I then mentioned the late hour and the official curfew, and Cindy rushed off to her room.

I was almost home when I heard the sirens and the roar of a powerful engine. There was also the loud hum of a motorcycle. I suspected that I knew who was responsible for that sound. Feeling pleased with myself for assuring one lady a pleasant night, I felt my masculine ego assure me that I could go for two. Feeling tired, but not sleepy and definitely not drunk, I decided to go ahead and see if another lady needed me.

Mr. Lorshein had been the physics teacher at my high school. The elder man had served his time in the military and was looking forward to gaining a second retirement from the school board. Everyone in the school considered Mr. Lorshein smart, but no one really knew how smart he was. He however spoke of having heard in return that I was smart, but when the elder caught the straight 'A' student drawing pictures of superheroes he thought to find out just how smart I was. We thus spent many sessions seeking to out-think the other, and soon we were spending time after school working to actually apply substance to one of our conversations.

I had truthfully only recognized a method of storing a high-energy wave enabling a machine to make use of tremendous power. It had been Mr. Lorshein that advanced the principles to where we found the gravity canceling properties. Combined, I recognized the opportunity for my superhero dreams to gain substance.

My original design had been for a floating car. Mr. Lorshein however sought to get the mind of the student completely on the practical, so forced me to consider all the problems a superhero would face. The floating technology was achieved, although each of us realized that it was far from a simple process that would be attractive to a vehicle or the common consumer. I felt that it was a perfect device for a superhero however, and the elder seeking to put our device into some tests agreed with the superhero plan. Instead of a floating car, we however focused on something that regular consumers would not desire to use themselves.

I entered my house feeling that Mr. Lorshein would be pleased not to see the costume slung over the back of a chair. He had teased his smart student by saying that the secret identity of the superhero would be revealed by such a lack of concern for clothing, but I had been careful not to let that ever happen. The costume was also not hidden behind a secret panel in the closet. There was too much stuff in the closets of the house to make such a convenient hiding place. The costume was where it should be, hanging in the attic. The only problem was getting to it.

I was removing my clothes as I went to my stereo. It was a large modular system with a few special acoustic filter boards of my own creation. One set of switches simply determined which speakers would broadcast the music. There were switches for the attic, and most assumed that they only directed the sound signals to the speakers sitting under the eaves at the back of the house. They did do that, but if set properly there was another speaker in the attic that would be activated.

"Pirahna, activate, with uniform."

I sought to name my machines because they were a part of my private life. I had a girlfriend, and upon looking at my notes I had her name some drawings of how I wanted my wings to look. I thus still think upon her when I talk to my machines. They never knew the one that had named them however, as she had never been introduced to them. She had not ever been a part of the life that I now kept in my attic. She died before that happened.

Cindy had been my companion since junior high school. We had grown up in separate parts of town, and had attended different elementary schools. There was only one large junior high school, so had met there. Cindy and I had somehow formed an attachment that held through a number of youth crises. Mr. Lorshein had however stated that Superman never told Lois, so I could not tell Cindy for one year. If my secret identity became revealed in the year, then I would have had to follow the elder's plan for the machines. If I could maintain my secret however, then I would be in charge of the technology. It was time for the prom when the year was completed, and I was going to tell Cindy everything. Mr. Lorshein was keeping his promise, and had planned a special night of awarding the contract to me. Cindy was definitely invited.

I was going to arrive as my superhero identity. As I flew to the Lorshein's house, I spotted a simple activity as a couple of men attempted to abuse an ATM machine. It was really a minor detour. The criminals had a plan, but there was nothing complex about it. When Minnow arrived and made things difficult, those who had only wanted some free money suddenly only wanted to get away. With the help of the criminal's bad driving and a policeman actually being in a good location, I was not tied up very long and soon was again heading to the Lorshein's house.

Those attempting to break into an ATM were not the only criminals out that night. There was another who had been terrorizing the elderly. The Lorsheins did not consider themselves that old, and as a couple they did not consider themselves alone, so were only concerned about the burglar because of friends that they had who were alone and older. The criminals had their own opinion of the Lorsheins however, and that night they and Cindy learned it.

The police were arriving when the Minnow started to descend to the Lorshein’s house. I wanted to immediately check on the problem, but knew that such would not be proper. I will admit that I cried as I quickly went back home, changed out of my superhero outfit, then drove to the Lorshein residence. By the time I returned, Mrs. Lorshein was already at the hospital with the other two bodies being placed in the morgue.

I cried a lot that night. It did not help when my parents and Cindy’s parents arrived, because they only cried with me. The criminal had broken in a back door, and it seemed had immediately gone to the elderly couple. The police stated that there was no sign of a struggle, but something had happened to cause the felon to suddenly spray bullets. Mrs. Lorshein told the police later that the intruder had gotten extremely nervous seeing a young lady present, and felt that just her presence had agitated the man beyond his ability to reason clearly. The elderly lady supplied enough of a description of the man that the police were able to fit certain clues together and apprehend the criminal. His actions while under police control and evidence found in the man's house showed that he had serious mental problems. Hearing that just the presence of my sweet heart had driven a man to kill her did not stop me from crying, but knowing that as a superhero I could help others did.

A panel in the ceiling at the back of the house over the washer dropped to allow a black rectangular machine to descend from the attic. Hanging from a handle beneath the floating box was a shimmering black uniform. The layer of Kevlar beneath a multitude of circular tubes was not as difficult to get into as it appeared, although it did take understanding the design. I however did not rush the process, because I understood that my life could be put on the line. The suit would protect me, but only if it was donned properly. The record at present was twelve bullets. I however had no desire to beat that record, but understood that one bullet could be enough to disrupt my life. With the suit completely covering my body and special optic lens hiding my eyes, a tube was connected to the floating machine. A shot of a special oil caused the outer layer of my suit to jump into position. The tubes not only bulked up the suit preventing others from determining my true form, they also enabled the costume to better redirect the energy of any object impacting it.

Minnow left the house from a basement window. Any neighbors watching had little chance to see my alter ego. A swift vertical movement of black against the night sky was not an easily registered image.

My hero costume helped me stay connected to my flying machine by small hooks set into my wrists. Such allowed me not to have to concentrate on maintaining my grip as I considered a coming situation. At present I focused on the streets of the city below in order to locate the car chase.

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PostSubject: Re: A Ladies' Night Out (All parts of Four)   March 22nd 2012, 1:56 am

I have to admit first off that I didn't really care for Part 1, and that is why I didn't comment on it. The conversation didn't flow well for me. Maybe it is because of character dialect? I'm unsure. I however have re-read it because I enjoyed Part 2 very much. I can see how the two parts intermingle. I enjoy the fact that Ballet Dancer/Break Neck speaks, it makes super hero's more real to normal citizens.

Part Two started off slow, but the last scene was unbelievable and yet totally amazing. You definitely have a wonderful way of drawing people in then letting them leave satisfied. The fact that these criminals aren't any match for this wonderful superhero makes it even better.

I have yet to read Part Three, but I am looking forward to it.

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PostSubject: Reply   March 22nd 2012, 7:35 am

Thank you, Kellycakes.

Don't be afraid of letting me know if things don't work for you. All that I ask is some reference for why it did not work. That is what I do when I critique others. I let them know if I found things positive, but if something troubled me I work to explain why. I feel that such helps me as well as possibly helps the writer.

I love comic books, but feel that they put their own structure on the characters. In doing these superheroes using prose, I feel that I can present stories that really cannot be done in a comic book. I however do not mind a little guidance or simply a second opinion. Thanks again, Kellycakes.

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PostSubject: Part Four   March 24th 2012, 10:25 pm

A Fight for Recognition
Story Two: Part Four (of Four)
A Ladies’ Night Out

Finale’
I flew in the direction that I remembered hearing Ballet Slipper’s motorcycle. It had been a number of minutes, but the chase had not strayed off the main road. I thus spotted the superheroine as she gunned her motorcycle in order to put a plan into action. The police had set up hoping to stop the criminals with a road block, but the truck had taken an unexpected turn. There was a way to get those chased back on the proper road, but it would require another quick change of avenues. Ballet Slipper rushed ahead to put her motorcycle where it could be the most effective.

It was not the uniform that caused people to remember Ballet Slipper’s name, but her actions. The spins and twirls she performed gave others the opinion they were watching an insane ballerina. Sherita liked the name because it protected her real identity. She had never taken a ballet class. Her parents had bought their children a trampoline, and Sherita had loved doing flips on it. Her ability to know her position at all times had to be natural, but the trampoline had helped to perfect it. She had also taken martial arts courses, but it was her natural skills that she claimed to the few that knew her secret identity to enable her to perform the stunts that Ballet Slipper did.

Shots were fired as the heroine raced passed the criminals. Coming in close along the driver's side helped protect her. The driver would have needed to allow another to control the vehicle as he leaned out the window to aim at her. The speed the truck was traveling prevented easy switching of drivers however, although those on the back seat attempted to end her life. The driver also threw his arm back and tried to aim a pistol at her by using his side mirror. The rough road however kept any bullet from flying at the one they tried to focus upon. The driver also attempted to swerve into her, but Ballet Slipper was well able to have her lighter vehicle match the maneuvers of the heavier machine. The truck had a powerful engine, but it was designed for hauling and not for racing. Ballet Slipper thus easily managed to race past those in the truck and gain the lead.

The vehicle swerved as Ballet Slipper did a spin on the back tire of her motorbike. The driver truthfully probably did not mind harming the superheroine. He also certainly felt that the quick acting lady would be able to dodge his vehicle. The cause for his actions to use his pistol were surely a desire not to hurt his truck, along with recognizing a possible opportunity for a clear shot at the lady who had been troubling him. It was a perfect shot, and Ballet Slipper suddenly performed an unplanned spin.

Minnow immediately dropped in height as I saw my friend tumble toward the ground. I had been staying high in order to allow her and the police keep their focus. There was thus no way that I could catch her in time, although I did trust her uniform to afford her some protection from the quick meeting with the ground. I was worried about the bike causing more harm however, so flew towards it. The engine of the machine had been rigged to keep running so its rider could perform stunts, so indeed would have caused more problems had Minnow not quickly gained control of it.

A couple of police cars had stopped. Minnow took back to the air as a couple of officers raced to the body of the lady, while a couple more turned to determine how to respond to those in the truck. An officer with rank grabbed a loudspeaker and spoke to the one flying hoping to gain some cooperation toward stopping the criminals.

“Minnow, we have already called an ambulance! This has escalated beyond a simple burglary however. If we can get those guys in jail, they won't get out."

Minnow did not talk. I originally wanted to speak with a superhero voice, but my flying machines did not make such possible. They were not easy to control, and I could not fight if my hands had to constantly work their flight mechanics. My mouth had been put to use to manipulate certain controls, and to keep me from providing vocals that might reveal things about my identity. The police thus did not hear a response from the superhero, but saw a nod, another black flying box zip to its owner, and a silent rush of shapes to those attempting to escape.

It had been the police who had captured the murderer of Mr. Lorshein and Cindy. Minnow did not have the body of clues nor truthfully the dedicated time to search down the felon. I was thus not present for the acquisition of the man just as I had not been present for the crime. Unlike that tragedy in my past, I was not crying as I raced after those who had harmed Sherita, because I was present and able to act. The police might be a part of the action tonight, but Minnow was determined that he would be involved as well.

The driver of the truck saw the police cars blocking his path and the tire punch laid out in the only clear area. He had avoided slamming his vehicle into the female on the motorbike in order to save damage to his truck. The concern about the appearance of his vehicle was dropped as he considered his situation. Taking more pride in the power that he had under the hood than how the hood looked, the man chose his point of impact.

One policeman did not flee with his fellow officers. Sherita probably could have named him. I often heard her speak of her interactions with the police. She spoke of all of them being proud to be a cop, and proud of the cars that they had been given. Most cheerfully drove the vehicles home and washed them on their own time. I saw the head of the officer lift as if recognizing the sound of the approaching truck and the engine under the hood. A quick assessment had him realize that the criminals were driving something that would not be stopped by his patrol car. Instead of running, the policeman went to the driver's seat of his vehicle to move it out of the way.

I performed a flip and put myself on top of my flying machine as I watched a patrol car move backwards just as the wayward truck would have impacted its front and the rear of another. As the truck swerved due to the uneven impact, I threw a metal hook to the back of the truck. There was nothing special about the hooks, so every reason why the action would not have worked. I thus found myself surprised when the hook caught on a corner of the truck bed. Years of experience had me jump from one of my machines to another as the one I had been riding suddenly lost a lot of its speed as the metal cord between it and the hook tightened. The hook did not remain in place for long, but it stayed enough to enable the flying machine to give more spin to the vehicle. I caught the bar underneath my other wing, flipped, then gained a position on top of it before attempting to give my machines further directions.

The policeman who was in charge of the spiked chain had fled to a position of safety. I rushed to pick it up while giving the command to my other flying machine to retrieve its cord and gain in height. While the driver of the truck regained control of his vehicle, I planned my next strategy while preparing to give new instructions to my flying machines. I heard those in the truck scream to the driver about the return of the superhero, but the driver was presently concerned on which direction to safely steer his vehicle even as I moved to place the spiked chain back on the road.

Even though I heard the roar of the driver putting his foot down to cause his engine to accelerate as its maximum rate, the driver of the truck and his comrades surely heard a couple of loud pops. Realizing that it was only tires, which were considered consumable attachments, and not a real problem with the truck, none in the vehicle probably considered things to have turned against them. The lack of control at the high speed however caused the vehicle to leave the road, so other sounds were heard as the different types of material were traveled upon.

The truck had the power to send itself down the road without the traction of the wheels, but it was now in the medium. The metal rims tore into the grassy ground. Being mountainous terrain, beneath the dirt was rock. The metal rims were unable to bite into the hard material. Meanwhile, the two good wheels were doing their best, but their ability to work only kept the vehicle with some forward momentum. Gunshots were heard and suddenly there was no traction at the end of any axle. The chase was over.

As the police took charge of the situation, I flew back along the route the truck had come. I arrived too late however. The ambulance was already driving off. I now wanted to cry, but saw other officers loading Ballet Slipper's motorcycle into a van. I landed near them. The policemen knew that the superhero did not talk, but one not directly in charge of anything spoke to transfer some information.

"Don't worry, Minnow. We aren't impounding it. She can have it back once she can prove to us that she is back in fighting form. The bullet only hit a metal plate under her uniform. It stopped the bullet, but one of her shoulders is pretty much torn up from the damage to the metal. I know that you two don't normally work together, but it is just going to be you for a time."

I was not crying while removing my uniform back in my home. No one had died tonight. I had done my best with two women, and they would be alive to speak to later.

The phone rang and I moved to answer it. I expected it to be Mrs. Lorshein. She somehow always knew when I had been out playing superhero, and would often call magically right after my arrival home. I was thus surprised to hear another voice.

The news media was doing their best to watch the hospital, but there was not yet enough of them to watch the complete perimeter of the building. The green sports car was certainly seen, but the media probably thought it just an arriving doctor. The vehicle was thus able to glide to a lone emergency door, gain a female passenger, then drive away without being filmed.

A shoulder had been exposed, treated, then bandaged, but Ballet Slipper only now removed her headwear. "Thanks, Larry. I did not want to call Brian."

"It is all right, Break Neck. I guess that I need to start calling you Break Shoulder."

"Save the jokes, please."

I did. "Where do you want me to take you? I don't have any clothes that will fit you, but my house does have an empty bedroom."

She laughed as if I had told a joke. "My brother already thinks that we are dating. That reminds me, how did your date go?"

"I think Cindy had a fun evening. She will be in town for the semester, and I am certain that Mrs. Lorshein will have me take her out some more."

"You need to get out more, Larry."

"Hey, how about you?" As if to assure that I was not speaking an accusation, I added, “Maybe a double date.”

"When I sell my shoes, Larry. Until then, my life is not healthy enough for romance."

"I believe that we both are going to grow old wondering why we made certain mistakes."

"I don't need another lecture, Larry. Take me home."

Sherita did share a kiss with me before she fled to her house. I considered it the proper way to have a lady leave me. Considering that the night had gone well, I turned my car for home rather pleased with how things had turned out.

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PostSubject: Re: A Ladies' Night Out (All parts of Four)   April 7th 2012, 4:26 pm

Love all the action part 4 provided. I couldn't stop reading, it went quick and it was wonderful. Great job Terish!

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PostSubject: Reply   April 7th 2012, 6:28 pm

Kellycakes wrote:
Love all the action part 4 provided. I couldn't stop reading, it went quick and it was wonderful. Great job Terish!
I am honored. I wasn't hearing from you, so getting worried. I however liked that story. Glad that it worked.

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