Clone(?) Lynn makes for HQ but discovers she'll need help...

Leaving the copy of yourself behind on the porn set (obviously SHE is a copy and you are the original... you're pretty sure you would know if you were a superpower-created duplicate, since you would have experienced suddenly coming into existence just a minute ago! There was no moment of lost consciousness or missing time ergo you must be the original) you barge past several apartment dwellers, knocking them out of the way with the momentum of your swaying chest. It's a bit insulting that even though all the people you knock down on the way are guys, none of them compliment your appearance or get struck speechless, instead shouting at you in annoyance for causing them to fall down painfully on the hard concrete steps. You're really starting to get annoyed with the lack of regard a hot girl in a skimpy swimsuit-like outfit gets while running around in this city. "Over-saturated is what it is..." you mutter to yourself. "And yet these dirty photographers go out lookin' to reel in a rude, frumpy lil' science nerd who looks like she ain't gone out into the sunshine since she was in middle school and has the figure of someone who still belongs there. Now that doesn't make a lick of sense. I bet they're gonna **** or brainwash her so they can get their paws on some of her fancy contraptions and go on a crime spree. Well, they're gonna have another thing comin' when I show with a whole team of 'Millenium Girls' to head off their plans! And they're ALL gonna owe me one!"

And yet, while your confidence is running on all cylinders, your toned, sexy, super-empowered legs suddenly feel like they're made of lead when you start trying to build up speed on the sidewalk. You redouble your efforts, your lungs and muscles starting to burn with effort. Yet although you are till going faster than a non-powered Olympic sprinter, much to your humiliation, cars on the nearby highway are actually passing you by! Driven harder by your injured pride you end up doing worse than burning up your energy and wearing yourself out - in trying to leap a large hole in the ground due to roadwork instead of just going around it, you painfully jerk your ankle to the side when you land. Though the pain makes you wince, it isn't serious... but running all the way to League HQ with that soreness makes you cry at the thought of it.

Belatedly you realize that splitting yourself into multiple copies like this must have a drawback. "Shit. I must have myself a limited amount of 'super', and splitting is like putting the same tank of gas in two trucks. They ain't gonna go as far." A thought comes into your mind as you watch the traffic going by... and it makes you cringe. Still, at this rate, Petite Mort is going to be defiled and humiliated by that video for years to come, even if those guys aren't supervillains. "No girl, not even a stuck-up snob embarrassed of her own hometown, deserves to be treated like that, used for cheap thrills and havin' video made of her by some snake of a guy who doesn't give a damn about her as a human being. There's got to be a better way for her to get what she needs. She's gonna thank me for stopping this... but only if I can get to the dang fortress before the whole thing is a wrap! ...Ugh... Ain't nothin' for it. HEY THERE!"

Acropolis City: a place where a girl running around in public in a bathing suit who just got finished weaving through traffic can hail a cab and tell them "To the superhero headquarters, pal, and step on it!"

You're fairly lucky as far as these things go. Not only is the cab clean and devoid of any funky smells, but the driver, a handsome, sharp-featured young man with deep tan skin, wavy black hair, and an accent that sounds some kind of South American, doesn't make any small talk with you, laying on the throttle as soon as the seatbelt clicks over your slender, toned abdomen. He gave you quite a goggle eyed look when you leaned into the driver's side window with the enticing hills on your chest, with the fabric of your uniform stretched so tightly over them that a colorblind person would probably think you were naked. But when the time came to step on the gas, he stepped, and off you went. At first you were expecting to get some questions but he isn't asking any - apparently, outlandishly dressed women hailing a cab isn't that uncommon in this city.

When the taxi comes to a screeching halt right in front of the League's entrance less than 5 minutes later, you are feeling quite vindicated in stooping to this as you hop out and stretch, getting ready to sprint to the ready room where other novice heroines are sure to be found. But just as you take off, your hand is grabbed. Even though your strength is lessened you're still twice as strong as a normal person so you end up dragging the poor cabbie out through the window, causing him to painfully stumble on his knees (why wasn't HE wearing his seatbelt?)

"H-hey! Sorry mister, but you shouldn't a-" The young dark-haired man stares at you reproachfully and a blush rises in your cheeks as you cringe. "Oh shoot. Uh, that's right, the fare. Oh. Ohhhhhhh damn." your cute freckle-spackled face wrinkles with self pity as you realize your misstep. "Well, uh, as you can see I ain't got any pockets in this uniform. This is real urgent so if you can just hang out here for maybe 10 minutes I can be back with what I owe you..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the sharp, indignant question is only the second thing the short, thin man has said to you. "I went through two stoplights because you said it was an emergency and you'd 'give me a good tip'! And now you just happen to remember you didn't have any money? And you're going to take my time, for free, to make me wait not knowing if you comin' back or not? Maybe I should go straight to the lawyer's department, huh? Damn capes... You know I already lost a cab just a couple months ago because one of you picked a fight with some super-strong freak? And when I came back to the station, is like it's my fault..."

"Well, well... I mean... I WILL give you a good tip! Listen, I'm famous, you hear? And rich! Or, ah, I'm going to be..." you say awkwardly. "Just don't go tattling on me, okay? I really don't want you to do that. I'll let you get back to your fares, just give me your number and I'll send you a check for, for five... no, hell, 10 times what the fare was.

The driver looks bitterly disappointed and shakes his head, sighing with resignation. "If you come through, is just a gift to my boss if it's a check. If you don't, it comes out of my pay."

You cringe. Not only is this taking up your time but it's making you feel really guilty! "Well how about... I mean, I'll still mail you the fare 'soon as I get the chance. But just to show I appreciate it and all what if I um..." your mouth turns a little numb and mushy. It seems that the dirty scene from earlier is infecting your imagination because some things you DEFINITELY don't intend to do flash in your mind. "...gave you, y'know, a kiss? A big one."

By the surprised look it seems like he wants to be scornful but staring at your gorgeous figure and cute, innocent farmgirl face, it looks like he just can't help it. The cabbie swallows dryly. "Well, I uh.. I wouldn't complain. Let me get back in so people aren't staring, you know?" he says, looking a little nervous himself as he gets into the driver's seat.

Heart quickening, you approach the open driver's side door and lean over him... but it seems he has more than a little peck on the cheek in mind. His arm reaches out and firmly grabs your hip, pulling you in completely. You awkwardly try to keep your balance, swinging your knee over his, and your eyes widen as you realize that before you even knew it, you've ended up sitting on his lap. The muscular, springy surface of the butt that has served you so well in photo shoots is squeezing the bulge in his pants tightly, and the feel of that buried treasure underneath his belt stiffening and responding to your presence makes a tingle go up your spine. "Uh, let's get it over with..." you close your eyes and lean forward. After all, this is practically innocent compared to what those gorillas have pressured La Petite Mort into doing, right?

It seems the guy can't control himself. One of his hands grabs the back of your head, working his fingers into your short bowl-cut hair and pulling you into him. Your big, soft breasts tingle with excitement as they get squeezed against his chest. Unfortunately, based on the taste you can tell that this guy is a cigarette smoker. You just thank your lucky stars that he's a little less gross-looking than the average cab driver.

But looks aside, he isn't exactly a gentleman. As he mashes his lips against yours and sticks his tongue into your mouth, you discover what his other hand is up to when you feel it giving one of your uncovered ass-cheeks a hard squeeze... and it doesn't stop there, as he follows that up by working his fingers under the edge of the tight crotch of your leotard. You start to object but since you're locking lips with him it comes out more like solicitous moaning. Soon you feel a pair of fingertips edging their way past your ass crack and going down to tickle your inner thigh. First they probe the backmost reaches of your pussy - which is getting a bit hot and moist by this point - and the other one, to your shock, brushes against that puckered spot where the sun doesn't shine. "

"Mff-ffffhhey!" you say, pulling away - your face inches from his (now grinning) mug. "I dih... din't agree to that! Get your fingers- your hands off of me, you creep!"

You push the door open and pull off of his lap, embarrassed. As you're trying to do so he takes the time to tuck a little card under the edge of your tight leotard's crotch portion. "You know you liked it. Forget the fare, if you ever need me to give you a ride somewhere, especially a nice looong ride, look me up, that's my number and my apartment room..."

Since you were in the wrong here you don't go so far as to shoot him down. "S-sure, whatever, just keep it quiet to the league, okay?" you swallow and try to refocus yourself. Alright. No need to explain things, just a quick rush into the planning room set apart for Millenium Girls candidates and round up a little posse, and that should be more than enough to scare off the bad guys or make them tip their hand... Hopefully they won't mind comping you a vehicle since you don't want to end up paying for two taxi rides by submitting to groping in one day.