The Enchantress leaned forward, her simple gown revealing a sexy bit of cleavage as the blonde studied the image in her scrying pool. Amora winced as Thunderstrike hammered a Raider from the air with her mace, "That's got to hurt." Her Raiders were armored criminals, wearing red, blue and silver designed knock offs of Iron Man tech. They could fly, were fairly durable and the blasters mounted on each arm easily out-gunned the police, however they weren't doing so well against these three. Individually the suits didn't come close to the power of any one of the three heroines, and they weren't coordinating well as a group. "They're going down," Morgan Stark said, the somewhat rumpled looking business man standing nearby on the sound stage that Amora liked using as a headquarters. He looked at Amora, "Do you think you should pull them out?" Several of the Raiders attempted to dogpile on War Machine, but were easily shrugged off as the suits shoulder cannon began to target their vulnerable joints. In moments she disabled several as the wild melee continued. "No," Amora shook her head, "if they can't deal with this, they're of no use to me." With a wave of her hand she banished the view of the battle, "We'll need to do some recruiting." From a inside pocket of his suit Morgan removed a personal organizer. "Any preferences?" he asked as he scrolled through his files. "Power and flexibility," Amora mused, "who we bring in will need to be able to face off against any one of the three heroes." "Major names?" Morgan mused. "They usually have pride issues," Amora noted, "I don't want rivals, just minions." "Carolyn Trainer, the Lady Octopus is currently in jail," Morgan mused, "but she's a follower and a potential asset. We could spring her fairly easily." Amora looked at the picture he called up dubiously, "I don't like technology, still... make the arrangements." "Three agents?" Morgan continued his search. "Five, I would think, all formidable fighters," Amora mused, "we need to be sure." "How about the assassins Feral and Sakura?" Morgan asked as he remembered she had allowed them into the city. "No, not yet," Amora shook her head, "we may need to capture them, not kill." After a period of work they found their five candidates, then Morgan left with a respectful bow. "I'll have a report on their availability tomorrow," he said, "they should begin to arrive in a few days." "Do that," Amora casually waved him away. Sitting back on her throne Amora reactivated the crying pool, gazing at the three adventurers before focusing her gaze on Thunderstrike. The armored woman moved with grace and power, dealing out punishing blows with her fists and mace. She looked stunning in the sunlight, glittering like a star amid the common streets of Los Angeles. Amora felt her pulse race a bit as she studied Thunderstrike, this mortal who used a piece of Asgardian power. "Yes," she murmured as Thunderstrike felled another foe, "you may very well be worthy of me." Meanwhile, on that street Warbird casually tore the power back off the back of one of the last raider suits, carrying the stunned pilot to the ground. All around them a busy commercial street was in ruins, store windows busted, fire hydrants spewing water and several cars burning away cheerfully. "Is everyone all right?" Warbird asked, the blonde haired woman's black bathing suit like costume clinging to every curve. "I'm fine," War Machine reassured her, the metallic grey armored figure casually tossing a fallen raider onto a stack of unconscious foes. Thunderstrike's long black hair flowed around her head as she smiled wryly, "I'm a bit tired, but good." `Nice to see that she has some physical limits,' Carol reflected as Warbird landed. They had spent nearly half a hour fighting these fools as well as chasing them down, none of which had been terribly easy. "All right," Warbird shook her slightly dazed captive awake, "who sent you? Who's giving the orders around here?" "I don't..." the young man's helm partially obscured his face, but his confusion was obvious as he stammered, "I don't know. Who am I? Where are we?" "You have got to be kidding me," War Machine muttered, making a imposing figure as the masculine looking armor loomed nearby. "What?" Thunderstrike asked, looking at the two of them warily. "Amnesia is a common malady with super crooks in this town," War Machine sounded disgusted, "it's like something makes career crooks forget anything useful once they're caught." "And it's not an act?" Warbird asked as she put the armored crook down on the ground with his fallen band of cohorts. "Medical examinations and psyche profiles all hold up," War Machine confirmed. "Well that's annoying," Thunderstrike frowned as the first police sirens began to wail. She looked at the other two heroines, "Should we stick around?" "Yeah, I assume we want to play nice with the police for Olivia's sake," Warbird said, a bit of annoyance in her voice. The arrival of the police soon lead to much heated discussion on their activities and the property damage, though the responding officers were more than grudgingly grateful for the defeat of the Raiders group. In the end several paddy wagons picked up the crooks and carted them off, and the three heroes took off together. "I need to take off a while," Warbird informed them, peeling off from the flight to Stane's headquarters, "I'll check in again later." "No problem," War Machine agreed, "I can report to Olivia on my own if we need to." "I'd better take off too," Thunderstrike admitted, "I need to go apartment hunting." Warbird smiled as she soared across the city, mentally composing the story she'd write as Carol Danvers, crime reporter. Landing nearby she reverted to her civilian identity and rushed inside, hurrying to her desk and typing away on the older computer furiously. "Danvers!" her boss Ron roared, "Where's the story on..." "I'm putting the last touches on a story on the Raider;'s capture," Carol shouted back, not even pausing in her typing. "Heh," Ron smiled slightly, heading back into his office. "You know, he'd normally rip someone's head off for a response like that," a amused female voice noted, "I think he likes you." Carol didn't even look up from the screen as she said wryly, "Monica, that is a vaguely scary thought." Monica Stewart chuckled softly, the older redhead shaking her head slightly. "Well, that and you're our most productive reporter. Two stories a day, and fillers too? He loves you," she laughed softly. "Eww," Carol shuddered as she finished and zapped the story to editorial to review. In actuality, this job had ended up about as easy as any other she had. She had gotten pretty good at hammering out paperwork during her days with the CIA and later with homeland security, and writing articles wasn't all that different. Of course, shedding the dry governmental style had taken some effort, but she was managing. "Heather's been asking around about you," Monica said as she sat down, "I think she's got a crush on you." "Really?" Carol blinked. "Damn you can be innocent some times," Monica chuckles. "Wanna talk it over with some dinner?" "Yes, please," Carol sighed as her stomach growled loudly.
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