A Real American Hero, part 2

Continued from: [link]

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Edward Dalton, the man better known to the world as "King Snake", took a long drag on his cigarette before leaning forward and crushing it out against the top of the hardwood table. It left a smoking smear of black as he rose and let out a heavy sigh. He was dressed in his usual working costume: a green and gold scaled bodysuit that showed off his hard musculature and shimmered when it hit the light just right, but this time the helmet was resting on the same table in front of him. The helmet also resembled a serpent, with razor sharp fangs and a Kevlar weave just like the one the bodysuit was also sporting. Dalton was quite handsome and in his early thirties with jet black hair and piercing, mesmerizing gold eyes. When he smiled and looked at you, he could charm anyone out of their life savings and captivate any lady into his bedroom. Tonight however he was far from smiling. He ran his hand down his goateed chin and shook his head before speaking in his quiet British accent.

"Baldwin, Baldwin, Baldwin...what am I do with you?" he asked the man sitting across from him on the couch.

Baldwin, whose full name was Lionel Baldwin, had been worked over by the King Snake's goons for the better part of two hours now. Both his eyes were black and his breathing was ragged through split, bloodied lips. Several of his teeth lay about the room and his face was a collection of deep purples and blacks. Two of Dalton's men stood on either side of him with a ham-sized hand on his shoulders, almost propping the injured man upright and keeping him in his seat. Baldwin's wife Clarissa was being held by a thug in the left corner of the room, his hands clamped firmly on her arms. She had duct tape over her mouth and could only sob, tears and mascara streaming down her face as she watched her husband take the brunt of the super-criminals anger. Baldwin's head slumped forward with a gasp and it looked like he might have gone unconscious. King Snake bent down on his knees, reached out and slapped his face several times, bringing him painfully back to reality.

"Don't go out on me yet Baldwin, you still have Clairssa and the baby to think about, yeah?" he said in his oily-smooth tone. Baldwin nodded slowly, looking up at Dalton even if he was quite unable to see any more than a blur at this point.

"Good lad...now tell me. How did the police know about the job?"

Lionel shook his hand and spoke in a cracked, pained voice. "I dunno...I didn't tip them off boss I swear..."

Dalton licked his thin lips and glanced up at one of his men, who nodded and stepped away from Baldwin and over to the corner where his wife was being held. The woman's eyes began to register panic as the hulking man in a the white suit made his way over next to her. Dalton looked back at poor, beat Lionel.

"Don't lie to me Lionel...I already know it was you, I just want to hear you say it. The situation is completely bollocks now. Archie and Randall are both in lock-up, the diamonds are back with their owner and my name is at the top of the AFPD's short list. Did you know that those two idiots killed and injured several officers in trying to make good their escape? With all the capes in this city, I can't afford to keep my operations active here. I'm going to have to pull up stakes Lionel. That's going to cost me money and cost me time. I have a reputation to uphold you know old boy."

King Snake leaned in, face to face with his former ally and stared with his strange, almost hypnotic eyes.
"Just at the very least stop playing me for an idiot and tell me I am right and you tried to double-cross me. Save your wife from a slow and very gruesome death, eh?"

Baldwin looked over in the direction of his wife of nine years and then back at the blur that was Dalton before nodding up and down as quickly as he could, tears welling up in the corners of his swollen and bashed eyes. His head came to rest, chin on his chest as his shoulders began to heave up and down. Dalton smiled grimly and stood back up, placing a hand on his shoulder in an almost comforting manner. He looked over at the goon in the white suit and nodded. The big man silently responded by pulled out a Glock 18 pistol and in one deft motion he shot Clarissa Baldwin through her left ear. She was dead instantly, only giving a tiny yelp of surprise right before her body hit the floor with a sickening thud. Lionel ground the shards of his teeth together and made a high pitched mewling sound, blood and saliva running down his front and merging on his formerly white undershirt.

"It wasn't slow or gruesome." King Snake said very matter of factly. "You however have the same option available to you now. Tell me who paid you to tip off the police and you will die a relatively painless death. Refuse and I'll make sure that you perish in considerable agony old friend."

Dalton motioned again and this time his men walked over and grabbed four canisters of gasoline, one in each hand, and proceeded to dump them all over the living room. The room quickly filled with the stench as the thick, white carpeting soaking up the flammable fluid. King Snake took out another cigarette and placed it in his mouth filter-first. He took out his Zippo in the other hand and began to roll the smooth, shiny object around in his gloved palm. Lionel looked up at his former boss with a mixture of disgust and rage, but pleading eyes.

"If...if I tell you, will you spare my daughter...please Edward...for old times sake?"

"No promises old man," continued the raven-haired man, "I wouldn't want her to grow up and want revenge on the man who killed her mummy and dad now would I?"

"Then you can go to hell Edward Dalton!" snarled Baldwin, knowing it might be his last words on Earth.

"You first." King Snake replied, pulling his silenced .25 Beretta and fired home two rounds, one in each of the crippled man's lungs. "Though it will be a slow, painful death I assure you."

King Snake and his men walked out as the men collapsed to the floor only a few feet from his dead wife. He was sucking in air, but his lungs were filling with blood. Dalton flicked his Zippo opened and tossed it back over his shoulder as he walked out, catching the fuel-spattered carpet ablaze. He wondered as he got into his car, if Baldwin would suffocate from the gunshots or burn to death in the fire first? The thought gave him a chuckle as he drove out of sight, the Baldwin house becoming an inferno behind him.

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Olga saw the blaze as she streaked overhead and dove straight down towards it. It was a house in the suburbs of the city, a nice little two-story place with a double garage and a well kept yard. Already most of the downstairs was on fire, the windows exploding out as the flames licked from them. Olga popped out her cell phone and placed a call to the fire department as she kicked in the front door. Inside was an inferno and two people lay motionless on the carpet of the living room. The Russian heroine crossed swiftly to the woman, unconcerned with the intense heat or fire. The smoke was another problem entirely and Olga had to hold her breath the entire time. Not impossible as she had trained herself to hold it a little over twenty minutes if need be. She grabbed the woman up only to be even more shocked: this woman was already dead, a bullet wound to the side of her head and a nasty exit wound had killed her long before the smoke or heat. The Soviet juggernaut, realizing she couldn't do anything more for the poor woman made her way over the man. He was still breathing, but barely and incredibly pale. He looked like he had suffered through a serious beating or torture and around him was pooling a tremendous quantity of blood. Olga gasped at the two bullet wounds in his chest, the thick scarlet blood pumping the life out of him. She quickly bent down to help him, no matter how bad his injured were. The man was trying to say something, his voice weak and blood running down his swollen lips. Olga leaned in to try to make it out above the exploding glass and crackling flames.

"My daughter...upstairs...please...."

Olga looked at the man and nodded. He smiled a bloody smile and his eyes rolled up into his head as he drew his last breath. The fire was already consuming the downstairs so she had to act fast. Olga flew upwards, punching through the floor and came up in what would otherwise have been a bright and cheerful nursery. Inside a white, wooden crib cooed a baby girl, staring up at the strange, foreign hero who looked down at her. Olga tenderly lifted the small child out of it's crib and cradled her under an arm as she took flight again, this time out the roof and straight up, punching through it with her free hand. When she got several yards up the house exploded as the flames must have touched off a gas line. The baby looked silently up at her rescuer, unaware of the danger she was just in, with an almost questioning and curious look. Olga looked down at the now orphaned little girl with a look of both joy and pity. She wondered how her parents had come to meet such an end and who would be callous enough to burn a small child to death in it's crib.

Someone was going to pay for this.


To be Continued...

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This takes place in

Soviet Superwoman, King Snake and the text are all my property and creations.

This stunning and iconic image of Soviet Superwoman saving a young life was done by the incredible , who if you haven't checked out his gallery please go and do so now. His commission rates are also as wonderful as his personality and his renders!

Another big thanks to for this gift of magnificent art. You are a good friend and this is very much appreciated. Outstanding choice for a commission! I hope I did it justice with my tale sir.