Outside a prominent technologies company, a press conference is in progress. The man being approached with questions is currently answering one.

"... and you can be sure that we are doing our best to improve the quality of life for all the citizens of Detroit.On this, you have my word."

A reporter puts his hand up. "You there."

"Kyle Marron, Detroit News. There are several government reports which name your company as one of the top polluters in the nation. What is your opinion on this, in context with your aim to improve the quality of life?"

"I assure you, Mr. Marron, there is no reason for alarm. We have recently been given a clean bill of health by the state DNR, so I am not worried one iota that we are ready to enter the new millenia. Besides that, the writers of those reports are well known alarmists. Next?"

Another reporter raises his hand. "You there."

"Harris McKinnon, Oakland Press. There are rumors circulating that your company is affiliated with one of the large crime families in the city, either the Circle-Point or the Yin-Yan Hex syndicates. Would you care to comment on these?"

The man at the podium suddenly becomes very angry. "Who do you think you are, using unsubstantiated rumor to ask me a question? I tell you right now, we have no affiliation with either of those, and if anyone else asks me another question on this, the press conference is over."

The first reporter raises his hand, and before the speaker can call on him, he starts. "But if it is found out that you are in fact affiliated with either of those syndicates ...."

"That's it, close up. Thank you, this press conference is OVER!" The speaker stomps off the stage, followed by several clerks.

Late that night, the same speaker is about to enter his car, when he hears a low female voice.

"Stephen Starks."

Starks turns around to find himself facing a tall muscle-bound woman, wearing a bodysuit and one glove.

"Oh, very cute."

The woman reaches behind her and pulls out a large serrated-edge knife. "Stephen Starks, you have been found guilty for the crimes of your sex. Your charge is being an immature, violent, uncaring sex, and you have been found guilty in absentia. The sentence is ... death."

The woman runs quickly toward Starks, her knife raised."Now feel the wrath of .... the Feminist."

All Starks can let out is a scream ...

In Motown Heat's 7th precinct office, Cutup and Ramm are walking into the office together as Flea gets off the phone. Her expression is coldly serious.

"Listen up, folks, there's been another major corporate CEO that's been murdered."

Cutup and Ramm approach Flea as she gives the particulars.

"His name was Stephen Starks, and he was president of General Appliance and Automotive. He was discovered early this morning, around 2 AM, outside his car. Cause of death was stab wounds, probably with some kind of serrated-edge knife. And folks, this is some dangerous murderer: he was only identifiable with fingerprints."

"What happened to his face?"

"It was burned off, with some kind of acid."

Cutup draws her breath in quickly, but Ramm is unfazed.

"Starks ... isn't he the one that made a total ass of himself yesterday on city-wide TV?"

"The press conference, of course. I saw that as well, he did make a fool out of himself."

"And, if I remember right, he is under investigation."

"Correction ... was under investigation. Let's go and check out the scene of the crime."

Cutup and Ramm agree, and they leave, Cutup and Ramm going out the door, Flea going out the window.

During the day, Charles Dix McCordill is walking to his car outside Dix Technologies, accompanied by a woman in a power suit, wearing a large-brimmed hat which hides her face. McCordill and the woman are in the midst of a conversation.

"Are we prepared to meet with our splinter companies yet?"

"Prepared, sir. I received calls from all of them, most saying they were looking forward to the meeting."

"Excellent." The woman opens the door to the limo, but suddenly is interrupted by a voice behind the two.

"Charles Dix McCordill."

McCordill and the woman turn around to see the Feminist behind them.

"You have been charged and convicted of being an immature, violent, uncaring sex. Your sentence is ... death, by my hands. Feel the wrath of the Feminist!"

As the Feminist pulls out her knife, the woman beside McCordill throws her hat away, allowing a large bundle of her hair to fall over her face: she is Style.

"Oh no you don't. Not to my boss."

Style uses one hand to blast the Feminist, but the Feminist is faster, avoiding the shot. Quickly, the Feminist swings her gloved fist around, hitting Style in the side. Style suddenly screams.

"It burns! It burns!" Style throws off her coat and blasts the Feminist again, this time hitting the stronger woman. Quickly, McCordill jumps into the limo, as Style runs back into the building. The Feminist picks herself up off the ground and runs away. By this time, a large crowd has assembled, but they only see the Feminist's fleeing form.

Motown Heat has reassembled at the scene of the attack on Starks, and is in the middle of their investigation, when a uniformed officer approaches Flea.

"Detective, we've just received a deluge of calls about an attack on Charles Dix McCordill by a costumed superhuman woman."

"Where did she go?"

"Most reports saw her traveling on foot eastbound on 10 Mile."

"Let's go!"

Motown Heat mobilizes, hoping to catch the mysterious new superhuman.

High in the skies, Flea looks down upon 10 Mile, until she spots an unknown superhuman fleeing down the sidewalk. Flea talks into the headset she is wearing.

"I got her, Jack. Traveling on foot, eastbound 10 Mile. She's running a good clip, approaching Middlebelt."

"On it, Jill. We're on Middlebelt right now."

"Roger that. Head toward 10 Mile and try to intercept her."

"Roger." Flea flies toward the woman, and finally tackles her. Flea jumps off of the other woman's body and lands on her feet, facing the muscular woman. The woman looks up.

"Fool."

A great flame shines in the Feminist's eyes. "You would dare strike the guardian of our sex? You acted wrong, Detective."

The Feminist leaps toward Flea, nearly catching Flea full body, but Flea leaps out of the way just in time. The Feminist, however, manages to swing a hand around and grab Flea's ankle, which throws off Flea's balance and throws her to the sidewalk, still with her ankle in the firm grip of the Feminist.

"You aren't that foolhardy. I don't think you're even the real Flea."

"You are under arrest for the killing of Stephen Starks!"

The Feminist pulls her knife, and raises it above her head, planning to use it on the Flea. At that moment, Ramm grabs her hand and pulls her away from Flea. Not too early to prevent the Flea from being injured, however: her nose is broken, and she has several lacerations on her face. Flea starts treating her own injuries.

In the meanwhile, Ramm and the Feminist are going at each other. The Feminist gives a frustrated grunt when her knife doesn't work on Ramm, so she throws it aside. Ramm stands up and plows into the woman.

"We don't want to do this. Come peacefully."

The Feminist, her face showing her extreme determination, grits her teeth together tightly, and takes Ramm by surprise with a strong uppercut, one which sends Ramm sprawling. She comes forward, to the point that she's looming over Ramm, smirking.

"Fool. You're next on my list, to be executed. Your sex has been found guilty of being an immature, violent, and uncaring. Prepare to die, Ramm!"

The Feminist throws her fist down toward Ramm's face, but Ramm catches the hand. The acid apparently hasn't worked for the Feminist, and she starts to panic.

"I'll admit, men are a bit immature, we are very uncaring, and we can be savages if we want to, but don't judge us solely on our worst examples!" Ramm throws the Feminist away from him, and Cutup manages to catch her as she collapses. The tubing through which the acid flows, however, is starting to break. The Feminist suddenly comes to, and gets to her feet, running. In the instant that Cutup had held the woman, she suddenly knew who she was. Digging into her pouch, she flings three knives at the Feminist's fleeing form, and only hits the acid canister. Dripping acid, she eventually gets away. Flea, holding her face, and Ramm approach Cutup.

"What's wrong, Jasmine? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I might have. I know that woman!"

Cutup drops her face to the sidewalk as the ambulance comes to take Flea away. Ramm approaches Cutup from behind, placing an arm around her shoulders.

"Her name is Renee Arshola, and she's a career criminal. I first met her in the juvenile home I went to when I was 15."

Cutup turns up to Ramm, her eyes watering.

"She was the first human being I ever wanted to inflict injury upon. I wish I hadn't had to do it, but it was necessary at the time. I fear I'm responsible for what she is today, now."

"How?"

"You notice that red patch on her left shoulder? That's where I stabbed her, in prison. Seeing her face behind that thin mask brought back the memory, and it's too terrible for me ... to ...."

Ramm nods in understanding.

In an abandoned warehouse, later, the Feminist is tending to her own wounds, seething.

"Well well, it's Jasmine Chin who wants to defeat me again."

Slipping her glove on, the Feminist tests it by launching a shower of acid toward a target.

"Not anymore, Chin. I will have my revenge."

The Feminist smiles, holding her hand in front of her face and inspecting her glove.

"Victory will be mine."

Liked it? Didn't? Wish to inflict great bodily harm upon my person? Tell me about it!
The best letters will be put on a "letters" link to the 7th Precinct page.