Demolition Girl checks out a lead on an out-of-control supervillain

Layla was a licensed car mechanic, who operated out of a large garage near to the edge of Omen City. She wasn't affiliated with any company, and she was the only worker, but she got by from a combination of her constant hard work and the loyalty of the local civilians. Most of the people near to her shop were happy to have her do all of their repairs, upkeep, and checks, and she also got a good deal of business from those further out of the city.

Layla was wearing a white tank top, which tightly fit her lean form and came to an end just above her belly button. As she finished applying a layer of grease, wiping what remained on her gloved fingers off on her exposed cleavage, there came a loud banging on the garage door. Great, Layla thought, Another fucking interruption.

Peeling off her gloves and walking over to a button on the wall, Layla pushed it in and the garage door began sliding up with a loud beep. Turning to watch as it raised, she first saw high red boots, then well-tanned but not overtly muscled bare legs as the garage door raised higher and higher. As it passed the interloper's head, Layla stopped the garage door with another press of the button and sighed. Standing outside of her garage, hands on hips in a heroic pose, was none other than the superheroine Demolition Girl -- local icon and defender of justice -- which meant this would be a long interruption.

Demolition Girl took several steps into the garage, chin high and already scanning the place. Layla awkwardly shifted over to her break bench, where she hid some particularly private magazines in a drawer and grabbed the mug of cold and old coffee as a disguise.

"So, uh, 'Demolition Girl'," Layla began, taking a sip of the coffee and instantly regretting it. As she set it back down on the bench and took one step away from it, she continued. "What can I help you with?"

Already, the rude superheroine was walking around the garage like she owned the place. Layla's garage. It irritated the mechanic to not end, as she removed her denim cap to ruffle her short blonde hair in an attempt to calm herself down.

"There's been reports of women disappearing around this area." Demolition Girl replied in a bored voice, barely even looking up to acknowledge Layla. "I figured this place was worth checking out."

Bitch. Layla thought, eye twitching as she pulled the denim cap back on and had to **** herself not to step in on the invading superheroine sticking her hands under the hood of a pickup truck she was working on fixing up. Yeah, you caught me, I'm hiding a bunch of women in an engine. One in each cylinder.

Layla tried to strike up more conversation with the invasive superheroine, who stayed just as dismissive throughout (and just as nosy). Proud and mighty, right?

Sighing in irritation, Layla sat back on the corner of her break bench, leaning most of her weight onto it through her plump, black-pant covered behind. Her eyes ran over the clock. Five minutes, as Demolition Girl yanked open drawers, rifled through them, and left everything emptied out. Ten minutes, as Demolition Girl pulled down pin-up posters on the walls to check for secret tunnels. Fifteen minutes -- this was digging too much into Layla's time, she still had work to do before she had to sleep. And man, was she tired.

With a yawn and a stretch, Layla smacked her lips together and leaned back more against the desk, eyeing up the impolite Demolition Girl as she was bent over and digging through the drawers of Layla's long workbench. What did she expect to find? Was she really this clueless and incompetent?

Layla brushed some of her short blonde hair back from her eyes as her gaze took on a different filter, and she started checking out Demolition Girl in earnest. Rude, cold, dismissive, prying? All true descriptions, but at least she was also hot, though. Her tight uniform barely managed to stretch over her fat fucking titties, more akin to wrecking balls than anything else, and Layla was surprised that the costume didn't find itself tearing apart at any given second. Must be nice, being above the law, above politeness, and above beauty.

Looking back to the bench she leaned on, and pushing the mug of old coffee a few inches further away with a little nudge of the back of her hand, Layla noticed something. She'd hidden away those "personal" magazines, that no doubt Demolition Girl would end up finding and judging her for anyway, the smug and holier-than-thou intruder she was, but the mechanic had had no reason to hide away the newspaper she'd been reading. Looking it over now, a million headlines and sublines seemed to jump out at her, all unique articles detailing the dismantling of so many of Omen City's heroes lately. That gave Layla a sudden idea, as she stood up from her relaxed position and began innocently walking over to where Demolition Girl was still digging through her toolboxes, car manuals, and customer documents.

If this stupid bimbo was going to interrupt Layla's work, to "keep the city safe" -- then Layla wanted to see if she even could.