The Empire Eighty Eight(KhepriDrone)

When it came to acceptable targets, Brockton Bay had one group that stood above the rest. Nazis.

Oh sure, they would attempt to defend themselves as white nationalists or cleaning the scum off the streets or whatever, but when the cards came down you really didn't have to feel bad about punching nazis. It was practically an American passtime at this point, with video games and movies and such.

I flew above the city-did I mention flying felt great? Because it does. The costume, open as it was, let me feel the wind in my hair and on my skin as I zipped and looped around in the sky while my invincibility protected me from the harsh chill I knew I should be feeling. I spent a few minutes just swooping around clouds to get more confident in my flight.

I didn't know where E88 territory really was, but if I wanted to punch nazis I'm sure my first rule would lead me to the right place. I swoop down, glancing at gang tags until I'm fairly certain I'm in the right place.

My suspicions are confirmed as I spot a gaggle of nazis- a herd of nazis? A pack of nazis? I'm going to stick with gaggle because it sounds the most demeaning. A gaggle of skinheads with viking tattoos and bad breath were cornering a young african american guy in an alley.

Is it bad that I'm kinda glad that happened so I could intervene? Did my rule book create this situation just so I could punch nazis? Whatever, I didn't want to dwell on that too long. There were racists to punch.

I landed hard in between the skinheads and the teenage boy- which some detached part of my mind notes is very attractive. The gaggle of skinheads spook as concrete shatters, I interrupted whatever they were saying.

Oh shit fuck gotta think of a good one liner- "Evening gentlemen." My voice sounded smooth and confident. I loved my first rule.

"Cape!" Yells one of the skinheads in the back. The gaggle disperses, some running away while others-

Oh jeez guns are louder than I thought.

I got shot. In the cleavage. I look down and my face goes red as I actually see the bullet lodged between my two bulletproof boobs. The nazi that fired the gun is flabbergasted, and I take the opportunity to actually punch a nazi . That did make me feel a lot better.

I let the rest run. Even with my first wish, I have the strength to turn these guys into paste. I'm not certain I just want them knocked out and I might seriously injure one.

I'm forgetting something. . .

"Thanks Miss, I really owe you one."

I eep at the unexpected sound, whirling around with my flight to face the dark skinned man. Oh right, the guy they were bothering.

My first thought is beefcake. He looks about my age, broad shouldered, and he's wearing a tank top tight enough that I can see his six pack. His hair is kept in neat dreadlocks and his smile looks like it should be selling you apple pie.

My mind went weird places when confronted with hot guys who actually noticed me apparently. And he had noticed me, he's starting right at my-

I blush further as I reach into my newfound cleavage and pull out the bullet that he was staring at, jostling my new breasts everywhere in the process. It's a miracle I don't have a wardrobe malfunction, I'm pretty sure the only reason I didn't was because of my first rule.

His eyes are transfixed by the scene, and my blush spreads across my face down to my chest.

C'mon Taylor you have a magic book that garuntees success. You can talk to a hot guy.