Guardienne: Called to Serve

GUARDIENNE: CALLED TO SERVE

Synne City Super Heroines in Peril

By

JK Waylon

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Smokin' Hot Press

Copyright 2017 by JK Waylon

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and locations within either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Unless stated otherwise, all characters in this work are 18 years old or older.

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the author

Guardienne: Called to Serve

Synne City Super Heroines in Peril

What am I doing here? Guardienne thought. The masked heroine took a deep, steadying breath. She felt her tight sky-blue costume straining over her large boobs. It was a one-piece, sleeveless leotard, with high cut legs and cutouts over her belly and cleavage. Matching opera gloves, mask, and thigh boots finished out her costume. I'm a forty-year old mother of four. I have no business stalking the streets at night looking for trouble.

And it was trouble she'd found. Took her all of twenty minutes. The costumed super heroine squatted atop a two-story building across from a liquor store. There was a single car parked next to the glass doors, with a driver waiting behind the wheel. His two companions were inside and robbing the place. Guardienne could see them through the glass storefront.

The two robbers inside the store took the plastic bag of cash the clerk handed over and started backing towards the door. She tensed, her leg muscles tightening. Brown eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, ready to spring into action.

It's amazing how the body remembers what the mind wants to forget, she thought. Even after retiring my mask for so long, my body is still ready, willing, and able.

Synne City was her hometown, though it was missing from a good chunk of her life. She'd moved to the Midwest after her super heroine apprenticeship was done, becoming the super heroine Flare by night while plowing through law school by day. She wound up captured twice, each resulting in a pregnancy. But even two babies couldn't keep that idealistic young heroine from venturing out two, three times every week to protect her adopted city.

Shortly after graduating with a law degree, she'd moved back to Synne City, where she'd met and married a Homicide Detective with two young daughters of his own. She gave up life as a heroine to take care of their combined family, but mostly to protect them in the event she was captured again. She spent ten years in the State Prosecutor's Office, before getting into local politics after her husband's death. Now Megan Milano was the newly elected mayor, with four college-age daughters still at home.

What a time to get back behind the mask, she thought. My timing sucks. The beautiful heroine looked at the dark buildings around her. But, damn, I love this city. If I have to don a mask and fight crime after hours again, then so be it.

As soon as the liquor store door opened, Guardienne leapt forward using super-powered legs. She streaked through the night sky, and landed feet-first on the roof of that four-door sedan. She felt the car's roof caving beneath her stilettos, then launched herself at the two stunned robbers.

Not in my city! She kicked one in the head, before spinning around to backhand the other. She heard the getaway driver put the car into gear. Don't go anywhere.

Guardienne vaulted over the car's roof and reached though the open window. She grabbed the driver and yanked him right out. As the car rolled away, Guardienne hurled the driver into the two other robbers, now trying to stumble away. All three miscreants went down in a gasping, groaning pile.

You are all under arrest for armed robbery.

One of the robbers pointed his pistol at her. She shook her head woefully, striding straight at them as he popped off five shots at her. Her Object of Power deflected the bullets, but she was more concerned an innocent bystander would be hit. So the dark-haired heroine seized his wrist, squeezed and twisted savagely with super strength, and snapped two bones. The pistol fell from limp fingers as he screamed.

That was attempted murder, she snarled, eyes narrowing behind her mask. All three of you will do hard time for that stupid move.

When the men tried to regain their feet, Guardienne kicked each of them in the head. They were still unconscious when the police arrived. Synne City's newest super heroine spent the next two hours talking to police. It was her first bust, so she'd expected the paperwork would take longer since they didn't know her.

Guardienne figured that was good enough for her first night back in costume. Word of a new super heroine would spread like wildfire. She expected the morning news programs to be wall-to-wall speculation about who she was, where she came from, and all that crap.

Using her Powers, Guardienne slowly lifted up into the air. The last few cops on site all stopped to watch her. She noticed more than a few lusty looks. Even at forty she could turn heads of men half her age, and she couldn't help but be pleased.

Synne City's newest costumed vigilante didn't get far before spotting something suspicious. A long black limo, along with a line of big black SUV's, were moving slowly through that economically distressed neighborhood.

What're they up to? she muttered.

They came to a stop at the intersection, even though there wasn't a stop sign in sight. A second later another limo – a Rolls-Royce, no less – turned at that intersection and rolled to a stop next to the first limo. The heroine paused in midair, a good fifty feet above, when the back windows of both cars rolled down.

It's two in the morning, she thought. Guardienne shook her head woefully, releasing a frustrated sigh. I have a press conference at 9 o'clock, just seven hours away and here I am getting myself tangled up in another mess.

She pulled out her smartphone. It was the phone the City Witch, Jazz, gave her, and was considerably more high tech than anything found on the street. There were a lot of helpful apps in there, just for super heroines. She tapped one app, and the camera function activated.

I don't think you guys are here to share Grey Poupon mustard, so let's find out who you are, she whispered, zooming in on the Roll-Royce's front license plate. The software processed the information for a few seconds. All pertinent information on the car and its owner filled her screen. Owned by Armand Germaine. The billionaire corporate raider? Interesting.

She forced herself to drift slowly to the side, until she had a clear line of sight on the other limo's back plate. A few seconds later her screen filled with its information.

Alexander Rubashkin? The Russian billionaire playboy everyone is gushing over?

Her eyes widened. Armand Germaine was a rather despicable character. Everyone was pretty sure most of his financial dealings were illegal, but no one could make anything stick. His multi-billion dollar fortune and army of lawyers ensured he never paid for his many misdeeds. Hell, rumor was most of the local and state politicians were on his payroll, as well as the top echelons of Synne City's police. On the other hand, the Russian billionaire was relatively new to town, and had a sterling reputation.

Before she could drop lower to listen in on their conversation, Armand's hand came out and shook Alexander's. She quirked a brow, and then watched as everyone pulled away. No crime committed, far as she could tell, so there wasn't a damned thing she could do.

I'll be keeping an eye on those two, she said, turning in midair to fly away. I have a bad feeling about all this.

Chapter 2

You look fine, Mom, Abby said. Relax. It's not like this is your first press conference.

Megan glanced at her eldest daughter. Abby was a bi-racial beauty with long brown hair and the green eyes of her Godforsaken father. Despite the manner of her conception, she'd never ceased to be the perfect lady and daughter. Just like her little sister, Samantha.

It's not really a press conference, she said. It's a meet and greet with the city's super heroine corps, but in front of the press.

That was the problem with political life. Every step she made was well-recorded. At least while on the job. If the press started following her home, then her late-night activities would come to a halt.

You know them all, Sammie said, shaking her head. The platinum blonde beauty leaned forward. You've dealt with masks day in and day out for over a decade as a prosecutor.

Not in front of cameras. Megan turned back to the full-length mirror, fluffed her long brown hair again, and then applied another coat of lip gloss. Do you think this skirt is too short and tight?

She wore a gray suit with white silk camisole. Megan wanted to look competent and in control. The outfit showed off her womanly curves well, and didn't hide her magnificent set of boobs. Unfortunately, it was the first time she'd worn the pencil skirt; too late, she'd discovered it was so snug she could see it stretched between her thighs even with her legs together.

No. It's too matronly, Hilary said. Her youngest step-daughter stepped up behind her, and then pulled the skirt up until it almost vanished under the suit jacket. Better. You have amazing legs. Show them off.

All four girls giggled, while she pushed the tight skirt back down. She gave her four daughters' reflections disapproving looks. They were all wild college coeds.

Don't worry, Stephanie said. Her redheaded step-daughter glanced at the closed office door and scowled. No one's gonna notice your clothes with all those scantily clad bimbos in the room. I swear, strippers look like a buncha nuns next to that gaggle of airheads.

Megan frowned. Both of her step-daughters had very low opinions of super heroines.