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A Real American Hero, part 3

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Continued from: [link]


In his youth Charles had been known as the "Brown Fox", a jewel-thief of exceptional skill and cunning, if he did say so himself. His smirked and ran his hand through his short cut, salt and peppered hair. More like the "Silver Fox" now. His biggest heist had been the Orloff Diamond, stolen as it made it's European tour almost a dozen years ago. 190 carats it was and the size of an egg. It was fun back in those days, different. Everyone had animal names or some other silly costume and of course the heroes did as well, always playing catch up. It was all part of the game. He had run with a gang including "Dragon" Johnson, "Fire Beetle" McMasters and "King Snake" Dalton. Johnson had been killed by the police in Ireland a few years back, dealing weapons to the IRA and McMasters was behind bars in California after a botched heist. The career of the Brown Fox was cut short after a run in with the heroine known as "White Owl" who broke his leg while apprehending him. He spent four years in prison here in Angel Falls and walked with a significant limp the rest of his lift when he got out. He'd given up being bitter about it long ago and actually met with the Owl a year ago in under much better circumstances. She even remembered him and apologized, classy gal that she was. Now the retired English thief worked for a private security firm here in town, helping to find ways to deter criminals like he once was.

He took a long swig of his Ameretto and sighed. Baldwin was dead. His wife and he were both the victims of a home invasion, double murder and arson. Their baby was luckily plucked out of the blaze unharmed by one of the those flying costumed types. Baldwin had always been a stand-up gent, but deep down he hated the way the business was going just as much as Charles did. He stayed with the game sadly when he should have cashed out years ago. King Snake was the only one of the old gang still active and his methods had regrettably changed with the times. He ran a cartel of unsophisticated louts and killed anyone who got in his way. There was no fun in it anymore...no thrill...just killing. Edward had gone and made himself a crime lord and a man to be feared. Even if he couldn't pin it on him, Charles knew deep down that he was responsible for Baldwin's death. There had been rumors that he was talking to someone else...making deals on the side. Stand-up, but greedy and stupid at times. Charles shook his head and shifted on his bar-stool, finishing off the Italian liqueur and having the bartender refill it. He tried to focus his attention back to the game on the big screen tele and forget about his past and past acquaintances. That part of his life was done with. Forever.

Everyone's eyes shifted to the doorway as the statuesque woman in the red, white and blue walked into the pub. She was magnificently built, if a tad too muscular and pumped up for Charles tastes. All these new heroine types seemed to take steroids to stay in the game, since all the costumed villains were killers and most were the size of bulldozers. Looked more like men than women, but they still had a certain flair to them he supposed. This one had long, flowing blonde hair, giant jutting breasts and a determined look on her face as she scanned the ogling crowd. Her eyes locked onto Charles and she swiftly crossed the floor and stood a few feet from him. Her lips were plush and very red and there was a smell of patchouli about her. She exhaled through her thin nostrils and placed her hands on her hips, legs slightly apart.

"You the one they call the Gray Fox?" she said with a note of Southern drawl.

Charles nodded before responding in his Cockney accent. "I was called that once, ya. All that behind me though, been retired these last five years."

The woman didn't break her gaze. "Congratulations," she said in a flat, emotionless voice, "but I still have a few questions for you."

"I no longer have any answers to give sadly." He replied, taking another swallow of his drink.

American Hero batted the drink out of his hand, sending it sailing across the pub to explode in front of the dartboard across the room in a shower of glass and alcohol. She kept her eyes firmly locked on his. "Well you're sure as hell going to try. Where is King Snake? Edward Dalton."

Charles looked at her with an open mouth before closing it tight and narrowing his eyes. "Listen Miss America, or Ms. Olympia or whoever the fuck you are, I just told you: I don't do tha' sort o' work no more. I haven't seen Snake in years, literally. Now bugger off. I'm trying to enjoy what's left of this game."

The entire pub held it's collective breath as the American Hero smiled a smug little grin, cocking her head to one side. Then, as quickly as a mongoose, she lashed out with her foot and slammed it home into his bad knee, splintering the old wound open again easily with her strength. Charles let out an anguished cry and collapsed forward, grabbing at his injured leg with both hands. Hero gripped his head with both hands and pushed it backward, smashing it down onto the top of the bar with a loud thud and holding it there. Charles face was contorted in pain and rage as Hero leaning in mere inches from him.

"NOW! I'm going to ask again and I don't want any of your Limey English bullshit! Where is King Snake?"

Charles opened his tear filled eyes and stared at her. "I have rights...you can't do this...I served my time..."

American Hero moved her head up over the side of his head, smiling at the shocked bartender who stood rooted to the spot. In a quiet voice she whispered into the old crook's ear.
"If you are still in contact with King Snake...at all...even a fucking Christmas card...well that's collaborating with a known murderer and domestic terrorist. Which would make you aiding and abetting a known domestic terrorist. As far as Homeland Security is concerned, you don't have any human rights...and as far as I'm concerned you fucking don't either. I'll bet you aren't even an American citizen judging by that shitty accent you're still sporting. Want me to dig around in INS? Your brother tried to burn a baby alive after brutally murdering her parents. I suggest you tell me where the fuck he is right now and not make me any more angry Mr. Dalton."

Upon finishing her sentence she reached down and lifted up his exquisitely carved walking stick, snapping it in half with one hand like it was no more than a twig. The pieces clattered to the floor in a jumble at her feet.

The Brown Fox's eyes looked up at his tormentor and he whispered a few things to her that couldn't be heard over the noise of the cheers and uproar from the winning goal occurring on the big screens as the football game came to an end. Hero nodded a few times and let go of his head, taking a step back. Charles sat back up and cradled his broken knee, staring up at her with a furious look. His hands shook and his jaw was clenched shut. Hero smiled and turned to walk out of the pub, her voluminous blonde hair flowing and bouncing behind her. She took a few steps towards the door and stopped, glancing behind her shoulder.

"Oh and I suppose it goes without saying that if you lied to me...if you are continuing to protect that scumbag just because he shares the same last name as you...then I'll find you."

American Hero winked and strode confidently back out into the night.

To be continued...

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This tremendous image of American Hero was provided by the always amazing :iconsuproawesome: who is running a great deal on commissions right now! Please check it out (and the great images of Crimson Conservative he did recently!), we need to sent this guy to Wrestlemania! :nod::thumbsup:

American Hero is my creation and property, as is the story.

This takes place in the :iconangel-fallsda: universe.
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© 2010 - 2024 Soviet-Superwoman
Comments65
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ronmarz1's avatar
Great writing as always:) (Smile) , but I've gotta say,  that woman is a total awesome!