Damsel in Distress by Echo

     The police scanner in her motorcycle gave her the news.
Disturbance in the alley between 10th and 11th Streets, off
Kylie Avenue.  Dark Damsel took the next right.  She was 
merely three blocks away.  By the time the police had 
arrived it would all be over, whether or not she intervened.
     The motorcycle parked and safeties set, she moved through 
the shadows.  Dark Damsel grimaced.  It was an ugly scene.  A 
woman, stylishly dressed, was backed up against a brick wall.  
A thug in front of her was going through her purse while two 
more stood by, one to either side.
     "Look, you have my money.  Just take it and go."  The
woman was putting on a brave face but her shaky voice gave
her away.
     The head thug looked up from the purse and grinned a 
nasty grin.  "Let's see what else you got, pretty lady," he
snarled.  "Mebbe you be real nice to us and we leave you
cab fare."  The other two goons chortled at that and the
woman's face blanched.
     "The police will be coming.  Get away while you can."
There was no disguising the tremor in her voice now.
Dark Damsel was close enough to see that the head thug 
had a scar on his face.  The one to the left of the woman
had had his nose broken a couple of times; the other stood
in the shadows and she couldn't see him clearly.
     "Mebbe you right.  So mebbe we got no time to be fancy,
hey?"  Scar grinned at her.  "Or mebbe you wanna come with
us, some place we can all take our time."
     "Le's take her with us, boss," Broken Nose growled.
"She might be fun an' we can always sell her off later.
Ain't nobody gonna call the cops in this neighbourhood."
     The woman's hands, as she held them up in front of 
her were shaking badly. 
     The man in the shadows spoke and the hair on the nape of
Dark Damsel's neck stood on end.  His voice was cold and without
a shred of humanity.
     "Let's just gut her here.  Won't be no witnesses then."
     She was close enough now to see that none had guns.  Shadow
held a knife and Broken Nose a cosh.  Scar didn't have any
weapons visible.
     "Now that hurts," called out Dark Damsel.  She grinned
at the expressions on the men as they spun to meet this threat.
"Calling me 'nobody'.  I'm here and I'd be a witness."  The three
moved forward slowly.  Damsel held her ground.  It could be 
tricky, but if they moved just a little closer the woman could
escape.  Even now she was eying her chances.  "What is this,"
the scorn was heavy in Dark Damsels voice, "only three to
one?  It's hardly worth my while."
     "That's Dark Damsel," Broken Nose whispered loudly to
the others.  He seemed in no great hurry to mix it up.
     Scar chuckled menacingly.  "So, you like odds, huh?  Shag!
Get over here.  We got a filly wants to be rode."  He snickered,
then glared.  "You wanna take the bitch's place, that's just
fine.  Always wanted me one of you costumed bitches."
     A fourth man, larger than the others, appeared, not just
larger--huge.  Dark Damsel didn't like the odds anymore.  She 
might beat any two of them without too much trouble, three was 
cutting it a bit thin, but with four . . . . There was little 
chance that one wouldn't get in a lucky blow, and once they got 
on top of her it would be over.  She tried a bluff.  Maybe her 
reputation would scare them off.
     "Only four?  I can handle four any day of the week.  I'll
hardly even break a sweat."  Confidence she didn't feel rang out
in her challenge.
     "And I love a good sweat!"  The voice came from above and
behind her.  Dark Damsel spun around and looked up even as the
four thugs began to close in.
     "Minx!"  It was the first time Dark Damsel had laid eyes
on the costumed woman.  She was blonde and built like nobody's
business.  Her costume was grey and white, with white boots.  She 
was not masked, but the garish paint which decorated her face 
with bizarre symbols and stripes would prevent anyone from ever 
recognizing her in civvies.  Well, now she knew.  Minx was *not* 
one of the good guys.  "Okay, then five to one."  
     Dark Damsel grunted as she kicked Shadow's knife from 
his hand then spun away from the counter stroke.  She was
for it now, she knew.
     Minx laughed out loud as she dropped from the fire
escape landing.  "Five to one?" she questioned.  "I was thinking
more of four to two."  A fist to the face and poor Broken Nose
held his main facial feature while he howled in pain.
     Damsel dropped under Shadow's grasping arms, came up tight
against him and straightened sharply, butting him hard under
the chin.  Shadow dropped like a stone and the Damsel spun 
away again, avoiding Shag's sucker punch.  She caught a glimpse
of Scar being pummeled by Minx, trying to protect himself from
her fury, before her attention returned to Shag.  He swung
again and she kicked, catching him in the ribs.  It seemed
to have no effect.  A sweep caught the back of one knee and
brought him down, but he was up again after blocking a kick
to his head.
     "I'm going to take you apart," he growled and stepped
forward, blocking her move.  With a garbage bin to her side,
the brick wall to her back and Shag in front there was nowhere
to go--except through the thug.  He warded off a punch and a
kick, then caught her leg and threw her to the ground.  "I'm
going to like this."
      Shag stood over her, his feet apart, a nasty smile on
his face.  Shock chased away all other expressions as a white
booted foot came up between his legs from behind and struck
him savagely.  Damsel scrambled to her feet.  Shag stood rooted
to the spot, a brute of a man, and groaned.  But he didn't
go down.  He didn't even bend over.  Damsel kicked at his
ribs again and he stepped back.  Minx stood to his other side
and repeated Damsel's blow.
     "I'll kill you," Shag gasped.
     "Not this time," Damsel gritted out as she kicked with
full force.  She heard a rib or two break and the behemoth
stepped back another two paces.
     "Not next time, either," growled Minx and kicked to Shag's
stomach.  
     Finally he bent over, gasping for breath.  Together Minx
and Dark Damsel hammered his back with clasped hands and Shag
went down.  He did not move.
    Minx brushed the hair out of her face and grinned raggedly
at Dark Damsel.
    "Yes!" they said together and high-fived.  They were both
breathing heavily as they turned to survey the scene.  The 
woman they had saved was picking up her purse; Broken Nose
was still sobbing as he held his face; the others were all
on the ground, out for the count.
     Minx held out her hand and Dark Damsel took it.  The
sharp pull brought her off balance and into Minx's arms.
Minx bent her head down and she licked at Damsel's neck.
     "I told you," she purred in Damsel's ear, "I love a good
sweat.  You taste good.  Wanna go somewhere and taste each
other?  Nothing like a good fight to make you horny, is
there?"
     Damsel felt Minx's hand moving down her back, cupping
her ass, then dragging up her front until it rested on her
breast.  Minx hefted it in much the same way as the Photographer
had done, but in Minx's hand it felt good.
     "I, uh, I'm sorry, Minx," Dark Damsel stammered, "but I
don't . . . I'm not . . ."
     "That's okay, honey.  I'm not, either.  But it can be
a fun change of pace."  Sirens sounded in the distance, getting
closer.  "You ever change your mind," Minx slid her hand
down to cup Damsel between the legs, "you let me know."  She
traced Damsels nether lips through her costume.  "Gotto go,
sweet thing," Minx whispered in her ear, then turned Damsel's
face up to kiss her full on the lips.
     Dark Damsel was completely taken aback.  This had never
happened before.  But Minx had saved her bacon, so she met
Minx's kiss and opened her mouth to allow Minx to probe with
her tongue.  It felt so weirdly good to feel Minx's breasts
pressed against her own, Minx's mouth on hers, so weirdly good.
     "Don't forget to give me partial credit," Minx grinned at
a ragged breathing Dark Damsel before jumping for the fire escape
landing, pulling herself up in one quick move and fleeing to
the rooftops.
     Dark Damsel's thoughts were all in a whirl.  So that was
Minx.  Yow!  Shakily she moved to meet the police who were coming
swiftly up the alley, guns drawn.  


     "It's great when a citizen isn't afraid to go to court,"
Commissioner Delcourt told Dark Damsel.  "The woman you and
Minx saved last week was so indignant that she she's already 
called in twice to affirm her commitment to seeing 'those four 
bastards hang'.  Has nothing but good words about you and Minx 
and wants me to pass along her thanks.  You, apparently, took
off before she could thank you in person."
     "Good.  'Cause I certainly can't go to court and give
my full name for the record, can I?"  Dark Damsel didn't
expect an answer to that question.
     "Those boys you brought in.  Rewards on two of them.
We've been looking for them for quite some time now.  So,
what do we do with the reward?"
     "Same as usual, Commissioner."  
     Working with the police, but not of the police, had
its benefits.  She was entitled to reward money for wanted
felons she brought in, or information she gave leading to
convictions.  That money was, for the most part, put into
a special account.  Money from that account had paid for
her motorcycle and did pay the insurance on same--care of 
the Hub City Police Department--and for various other gadgets 
they supplied her with from time to time.  Occasionally she 
asked for some of it in cash.  She, also, had sources to 
reward.
     "Actually I'll want half in cash.  Minx deserves half
the reward."  The Damsel thought for a moment.  "Say,
Commissioner, you don't have a line on Minx, do you?"
     Delcourt leaned back in his chair.  "Sorry, Damsel,
she's almost as much of a mystery to me as you are.  Sometimes
we think she's on our side, sometimes we wonder.  I would
love to know what got her into this racket."  He leaned 
forward again and opened a drawer.  Out came an envelope.
"I had a suspicion you would ask for this.  Half.  In cash,
used twenties, not marked in any way."
     "Thanks, Commissioner.  Now to other business.  The
Photographer."  Dark Damsel tried to keep the anger out of
her voice as she said the name.
     "Just a minute."  He buzzed his secretary.  "You can send
her in now."
     A medium-tall brown haired woman walked into the room.
She moved like a cat, graceful and purposefully.  Her brown
eyes regarded Dark Damsel in a way that made the Damsel 
slightly uneasy.  It looked almost like disguised lust.  Damsel
grinned to herself; since the meeting with Minx she was becoming
over sensitive about relations with other women.
     "Dark Damsel, I'd like you to meet Rebecca Nasturant.  I
put her on the research you wanted."
     Nasturant looked from the Damsel to the Commissioner
and back.  At the Commissioner's nod she opened the file folder 
she was carrying and pulled out several sheafs of paper.
     "This is what we have so far, Dark Damsel," her voice was
precise, efficient, not at all what Dark Damsel had expected.
Such a sinuous woman should have a more sensuous voice, Damsel
thought.
     "Given that this Photographer *does* have something
personal against you, we've gone back over every case you are
on record as having handled or supported.  Computer printouts
of all those who might be holding a grudge are on List A.
>From those, all who are still in prison . . . or dead . . .
have been appended to List B.  List C is those who are now
at large, either wanted or living within the law."   Nasturant
handed copies of the list to Dark Damsel and to Delcourt as
she mentioned them.  She set the rest of the file down on the
Commissioner's desk.
     "What remains is what we have on the names from List C.
Anything you can do to reduce the list would be a great help,
Dark Damsel.  I took the liberty of arranging them in what
I think is descending order of probability."
     "Thank you officer, it is greatly appreciated."
     Nasturant nodded at Dark Damsel, looked her up and down
once more then turned to Delcourt.  "Is there anything else,
Commissioner?"
     "No, thank-you, Rebecca.  That will be all for now."
     Rebecca Nasturant nodded, turned and left the room,
her footsteps silent.
     "A great help, that woman," Delcourt enthused.  "A miracle
worker on the computer."  And a wonderful sight for the eyes,
he added silently, wondering if a woman that young might find
a man like him attractive.  He shook his head.  As long as
she was his subordinate it was impossible.  Sexual harassment
suits would pour on him like rain.  Ah, well . . .
     Dark Damsel smiled to herself.  It would do Uncle Teddy
a world of good to get back into 'action', she thought.  He
hadn't gone with anyone since his wife had died three years
ago--as far as she knew.  She wondered if he was as obvious to
the lovely young officer as he was to her.
     "I'm sure she is, sir.  I'll take the lists and report
back via e-mail."  Like hell she would.  She wanted the
Photographer for her own.
     "Now, Damsel," Delcourt began, his mind in the same track,
"don't do anything rash.  Together we can get this man and 
put him away."
     "Nothing rash.  Of course not, sir."

     Peter Lepcher.  There he was third from the top of
List C.  Dark Damsel had broken up his operation four years
ago.  He had been sentenced to ten years in jail but had been
a model prisoner and was out on parole.  There was nothing 
about the man that seemed to indicate a lust for vengeance,
but Officer Nasturant had placed him up near the top.
     Lying back on her bed, Renee picked up his file.  Hmm.
He had become involved in martial arts while in the Pen.
Strike one.  Yet he had been a model prisoner, no fights,
no involvement with gangs, no nothing.  He had been released
just three months before the first heist by the Photographer.
Strike two.
     Renee glanced up to the Television to watch a particularly
funny part of a movie she had seen three times before and she
was still chuckling when she returned to her study of Lepcher's
file.  Her chuckling died, as did her smile.  Lepcher was now
in business running a photography shop with dark-room.  Strike
three!  Dark Damsel would have to investigate.  Now.
     There was still a light on in the shop when Dark Damsel
arrived, though the store was closed for the day.  She parked
her bike in the alley behind the shop and went to the back door.
     Pulling a lock-pick from her pouch she bent down then, 
with a wry grin, straightened up once more.  No use buying
trouble.  She rang the bell.  She could hear the foot-falls
as someone approached the back door.  The door opened.  Lepcher!
     "Dark Damsel!"  Lepcher's eyes went wide.
     "Surprised?  You didn't think I'd find you, perhaps?" Damsel 
sneered.
     "I didn't think you'd be looking?" answered the astonished
man. "I've done nothing wrong, Dark Damsel, nothing that would
bring Dark Damsel after me.  Hell, you were the one who sent me
up.  I never laid a finger on you, so I don't understand why 
you'd come after me.  What's going on?  Surely I have a right
to know."
     The man was a good actor, Dark Damsel decided.  She needed
something to jolt him out of his complacency.  She made a sudden
strike, slow enough for him to block, one leaving her seemingly
open to a counter strike.  The moves were automatic.  Lepcher
blocked the blow, but stopped the counter-move part way in.
Instead he backed up, his hands in front of him, prepared.
     He was ready, Dark Damsel could see, but he didn't seem
to want a fight.  Also, his block wasn't the lightning fast
move that the Photographer was capable of.  She reconsidered.
     While Dark Damsel was thinking, Lepcher lowered his guard.
He looked very confused.  "What's going on here, Dark Damsel?"
he asked.  "Wouldn't it be better to talk it over first?"
     "Where were you on the night of the 26th?"  Dark Damsel
demanded.
     Lepcher rolled his eyes.  "I knew it.  I knew it would
come to this sooner or later.  Damn and blast that man!  I'm
not the Photographer.  Shit.  I buy into a photography store
and suddenly this guy starts his spree.  First:  I've paid
for my crime; second: I'm on parole and I'm not going back
inside; third: I'm not stupid.  You think I'd leave pictures
behind me, something to lead the police straight to this shop?"
     "I don't know what you'd do?" Dark Damsel replied.  "You
could be very clever."
     "I suppose.  But the police have been here three times
already.  I don't have an alibi for the 26th, I was here working
by myself, but I do have one for the last three of the 
Photographer's jobs.  You're supposed to be tight with the 
cops, ask them."  The words were almost a plea.
     Dark Damsel was almost ready to believe him.  He seemed
sincere.  But why had mention of the police investigations
been left off his sheet?  Had there, in fact, been any.
     "Look, Dark Damsel, if you want, come in.  Look around."
     "Okay, I will."
     Over the next hour Lepcher showed Dark Damsel through his
store, showing her the improvements he had made, told her of
his hopes and dreams, took her through his client lists, 
everything she wanted, and more.  By the end of that time
Dark Damsel was sure that Peter Lepcher was not the 
Photographer. 
     "I'm sorry, Peter.  I had to check you out," she said
as he led her back to the door, holding it open for her.
     "That's okay.  I guess I'll have to expect this sort of
thing for a while yet.  People are never willing to admit that
someone has changed.  Actually, Damsel, I owe you my thanks.
I was going nowhere, fast.  The time in prison gave me the
chance to turn everything around.  I'm happy now.  I don't
look over my shoulder for what's coming up behind me anymore.
I have a lady friend, and I don't have to keep secrets from
her."  Lepcher offered his hand and Dark Damsel took it.
     "Now, I'd better get back to work.  I told Penny I'd be
done by eleven and it's almost that now."  He closed the
door behind her and she heard it lock.
     Well, one down, forty to go, thought Dark Damsel as
she straddled the bike and put the key in the ignition.  She 
turned the key and there was a flash of light which blinded her 
and a sudden pain in her thigh.  She started to sway.  As her 
vision came back she noticed there was a dart in her right 
thigh.  Seemed odd that there would be a dart sticking out of 
her thigh.  She should do something about that.  Yes, she should 
pull it out.  Or something.  Another flash disconcerted her.  
Damn, it was getting foggy out.  Didn't hear anything about that 
in the forecast.
     A hand reached out to support her and Dark Damsel tried
to thank the good Samaritan but the words wouldn't come.
Some words did come, but they were from outside.  She tried
to concentrate.
     "I knew you'd come here, sooner or later," the disembodied
voice whispered.  "Now the fun begins."