Officer Sean O'Connel smiled as the redhead surpervised a team of cops loading the stunned figures of the Wrecking Crew into a armored paddy wagon. "So you're Thunderstrike," she murmured, "have we met before?" 'I met you as Jackie Lukas,' she thought wryly. "No, I don't think so," she answered, glad the transformation made her voice and general look change quite a bit. Sean sighed, "Maybe you just have that kind of face....." Eager to change the subject Thunderstrike nodded towards the Wrecker, "Do you have the facilities to hold someone like him?" Sean shrugged, "We have some gear provided by Stark Enterprises, supposedly it'll hold someone up to the Hulk's strength." "Supposedly?" Thunderstrike raised her eyebrow. "I think we're the testers for the invention," Sean conceded. Thunderstrike nodded sympathetically, "I'll ask my teammates to keep a ear open on the emergency band, just in case." "We'll appreciate it," Sean nodded. She smiled, "Well, I have your statement so you're free to go." "Thank you," Thunderstrike turned to go. "I'm just worried about that Delilah woman," Sean called as Thunderstrike began to spin her mace, "the stories from New York say she was a hitter for the mob!" "We're not done," Thunderstrike agreed as she hurled her mace, grabbed the attached chain and was yanked up into the blue sky. "I hope you mean that," Sean murmured as she watched Thunderstrike disappear into the distance, "because from what I've heard about her she doesn't back off from a fight until it's over and one of you is dead." Meanwhile, back at Stane Industries the medical center was getting it's first full workout. Gleaming lights shone as Warbird lay on the padded table, exotic monitors scanning her near invulnerable form as holographic displays popped up around her. The black and gold clad heroine groaned and twisted a bit on the table, even with the low level force fields that should have been holding her still. "Is she going to be all right?" Jennifer Swensen finally demanded, still dressed in the War Machine armor but her helm sitting on a counter nearby, her red hair blazing under the lights. "Actually, I think she's going to be fine," Olivia Stane stepped back, the white-blonde haired woman shaking her head in wonder. "Her body seems to heal at a incredible rate," she noted, "in fact, the only real trouble was when you had to realign her broken finger. It might have healed crooked otherwise." "Damn," Jennifer shook her head in admiration, "any way we can get a ability like that?" "No," Olivia smiled slightly, "not unless you want to submit to months if not possibly years of genetic treatments...." Jennifer made a face, "No thanks." "I can hear you," Warbird grumbled as she opened her blue eyes, the blonde sitting up with a soft groan. Olivia put her hand on Warbird's arm, "You need to rest, you're still healing." "Is that woman still...?" Warbird growled, wincing in pain as she tried to get off the table. "She's gone," Jennifer told her seriously, "Thunderstrike and I drove her off." Warbird sat on the side of the table, her breath a bit ragged from pain. "Damn, I wanted a rematch," she admitted. "After that beating?" Olivia looked startled. Warbird looked grim, "I hadn't realized how strong she was right off the bat." A slightly annoyed smile teased her lips as she confessed, "I didn't hit her at full strength to start with...." "And she was a lot stronger than you expected," Jennifer nodded. Connie stuck her head in the door as the brown haired woman in casual business wear said, "The Wrecking Crew is in police custody and Thunderstrike is on her way back." "Any sign of that woman Delilah?" Warbird had to ask. "Disappeared," Connie admitted, "no reports on police frequencies and my taps on security systems are coming up zilch." There was a sound of running feet then Thunderstrike hurried around the corner, her worried expression almost instantly easing as she saw Warbird up and around. Walking in a bit more slowly she asked, "Are you all right?" "A little banged up," Warbird smiled, "but otherwise fine." Thunderstrike reached her side and gently took Warbird's hand as she smiled back. "I'm glad," she said, "I was pretty worried when War Machine carried you off." "Sorry I scared you," Warbird said softly. Connie watched the two women with a faintly pained smile then excused herself, heading back to the communications's station. 'Those two,' she shook her head wryly, 'I wonder if they even realize how obvious they're being about their emotions.' 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 Amora the Enchantress scowled as she watched the footage of Delilah's battle with the Force Works team in her scrying pool. "You little fool," she growled out, "why didn't you wait for some of our back-up to arrive?" Morgan Stark frowned as he watched too. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said humbly, "I thought the break out of the Wrecking Crew needed to be dealt with quickly." Amora sighed, "If she had just retrieved them there would be no problem, but she was too damn enthusiastic." "She's reported in from one of our local safehouses," Morgan said as he checked his personal organizer, "according to this she intends to remain under cover until her next mission." "Thank goodness for that," Amora noted wryly. "How are her injuries?" "Broken hand," Morgan calmly reported, "with her physiology she should be fixed up in just a day or two." "Good," Amora nodded. She got up off her throne like chair in the beautifully decorated throne room as she briskly asked, "What sort of danger are we in from the Wrecking Crew?" Having clearly given this some thought Morgan promptly answered, "They don't know the location of this hideout, but they do know you're in charge." He hesitated then nervously said, "They also know I'm involved, which may be somewhat more of a problem." "You're exposed?" Amora actually sounded amused. Morgan sighed as he reminded her, "Yes, ma'am. I had to meet Thunderball in person to get the group to sign on with you..." Amora stopped, her expression thoughtful. "They likely have your name and description?" she asked him. "Of course," Morgan looked at her in confusion. "Easily solved," Amora smirked as she snapped her fingers. Morgan barely managed a choked off cry as magical power washed over him, engulfing his body in a pink perfumed cloud. Coughing and gasping Morgan emerged from the cloud with much longer brown hair, not to mention a few... other changed. "What the hell?!" Morgan yelped in a distinctly female voice. "You were worried that the Wrecking Crew could identify you to the police," Amora said with a dangerous smirk, "this should solve that problem." "It's not that simple, you know," Morgan said, her now triangular face free of mustache and stubble. Amora rolled her eyes, "Morgan, it's really not that hard. Take a handful of gold and buy a good hacker and forger to fix the records and you'll be all set." Morgan stammered, "But...." A dangerous spark shone in Amora's eyes as she added, "Or if you like I can solve the problem for good." "It's fine," Morgan quickly blurted, "just fine, ma'am." "Oh, good," Amora smiled slightly as she sauntered to the door. "Keep an eye on things," she ordered as she left, "I have business to attend to." Morgan watched her go then put her head in her hands and groaned, "I knew I should have just been an accountant." Several of Amora's general lacky boys looked on before one tentatively cleared his throat. "Ah, sir? Or ma'am?" "What?" Morgan looked up tiredly. "Ah, your new hips aren't holding up your clothes too well," he offered shyly. "Ack!" Morgan grabbed her now oversized pants before they could slip down any more. "Someone grab me some sweatpants and a T-shirt?" she asked plaintively, wishing Amora had just transformed her business suit too.
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