Porkum Doesn't Give His Sow A Moment of Peace

The phone screamed from across the room. It was four in the morning. The exhausted heroine raised a hand, and an invisible hand picked up the phone and brought it toward her.

"Whaz?" she slurred. Her lower back itched terribly.

"Mrs. Storm? This is Commissioner Johnson, NYPD," the woman's voice said. "We've got a supervillain situation—the Trapster has explosive glue-bombs stuck around the Statue of Liberty, and wants ten million in small bills. The Avengers still aren't answering our calls—"

The Invisible Woman **** herself outright. She was still dressed in her costume, though it was wrinkled from having been slept in, and she could practically smell herself in it. H.E.R.B.I.E. appeared at the door to the room, with a fresh pot of coffee.

"On my way," Sue said grimly. "Give me details."

Minutes later, Sue Storm was in the air, the Fantasticar set on course, utterly invisible.

Four weeks. She was supposed to be relaxing. Healing. Instead, it had been one thing after another. Sue had barely gotten three or four hours of sleep in every twenty-four. Her exercise schedule was shot to hell. The ache of her tramp stamp had turned to a burning itch, but she'd just let H.E.R.B.I.E. change the bandages and apply the dermal gel. When the nurse showed up to change the bandage on her leg, Sue didn't even mention the embarrassment carved into her flesh.

Villains. Usually minor villains with new tech, new plans. It was a constant stream of them, organized and clever. The worst part was that Sue knew the Trapster was probably just a distraction. That was how it worked. Two villains would always strike at the same time. One, big and flashy. The other quiet. When Mysterio let loose a giant mechanical ape on the Empire State Building, the Fixer had tunneled into the Federal gold reserve and made off with about 5% of the gold reserves. When the Absorbing Man became the Hudson River and threatened to flood Manhattan, the Mad Thinker had broken into the New York Stock Exchange and inserted a computer worm that siphoned off a billion dollars in an hour.

Sometimes other heroes were there to help Sue, but more often than not they were gone, busy. S.H.I.E.L.D. had relocated some assets into the city, to take on the smaller threats while Sue focused on the villains that they couldn't handle. However, there were so many attacks, so many foes, so well-planned and coordinated...

...Sue snapped back into the now as she came up on the Statue of Liberty. The Trapster hung from the crown, and she could see many of the glue-bombs. He had some kind of new, large-barrelled gun to fire them off, the grey blobs hanging stickily from the green copper.

"I want my money!" he screamed into the tiny hand's free microphone in front of his mouth. His voice boomed from speakers throughout the island. Not tech that he had ever had before. Not tech that he should have.

Sue undid her flight harness and stepped out of the Fantasticar. Unseen, she descended on an invisible platform. There were too many bombs to try and contain them all. If she missed even one...no. She had to act fast.

Then he turned. The Trapster was wearing goggles. The rims spun wildly, flashed. He was looking right at her. Pointed his gun at her.

"Invisible c—" he started.

If she was less tired, Sue would have been more gentle. Maybe. As it is, she pictured invisible brambles that grew up over his steel-shod boots. That tore up his pants. The tiny invisible thorns stapped outward and ripped through all of his electronics. Wrapped around the finger that tried instinctively to pull the trigger.

He got off one shot before he was frozen in place and his costume exploded off of him, to leave him naked except for his boxers. Sue stared at the grey, gooey glob that hung suspended in midair on the invisible bubble that surrounded her.

Then it exploded.

She didn't flinch. Her forcefield But The Trapster did. The thorns shredded through his skin, and he began to scream, blood everywhere.

Sue Storm sighed, her tattoo momentarily forgotten as the exhausted heroine shifted the forcefield to put pressure on the worst of his cuts. It wasn't the best use of her powers; they weren't absorbent like a bandage. Still, all she needed to do was hold him long enough to get him to the cops, then go back home and try and sleep.

In his lair, Porkum was already organizing the next part of the plan. Doom had connections in the supervillain community, and the word went out: big scores for those bold enough to step up. On the giant touchscreen that served as a wall, Porkum saw the exhaustion in Sue Storm's face and body. That was the point of it all, even though the gold and cash was a nice bonus. His share from one score would pay for the next. Each one would drive Sue Storm a little more toward her limit...

...and while she was fighting crime, she wasn't looking at what was happening to her body as the secret ingredient in the tattoo ink slowly did its work.