Part Two

The next morning, I yawn and stretch, feeling nothing of the injuries I acquired the day before.

Sometimes being an escaped government experiment has its advantages. I love my healing factor.

I get up, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt that only reaches the tops of my thighs and is so thin, it's close to transparent.

I don't care though, who's going to see me? I'm alone in the building and not likely to have any visitors.

I head into the bathroom and turn the shower on. I slide the shirt off over my head and inspect my well muscled body for any residual scars. My skin is still smooth, save for the scar on my back between two of my ribs that was never able to heal itself for some reason.

I step into the shower after stripping out of the shirt and panties and let the deliciously warm water cascade over my body and through my two tone hair.

I close my neon green pupilled eyes and savor the delightful feeling of warm water sliding over my body for a few moments.

It's amazing how you learn to appreciate the little things in life when you're being threatened with death every day just because you're not like most humans.

I sigh softly, finishing the shower and getting dressed in my form hugging black jeans, black shirt with the word "Security" spelled out across the chest in white block letters and steel toed boots. After braiding my hair back and putting on my shades. I'm ready for work.

Throwing on my old leather jacket, I jog out of my building and make my way to the bar that I'll be bouncing at today. Normally, I bounce at this one place not too horribly far from where I live, but apparently, my regular place of employment had partnered up with this other place across town. The other place was short a bouncer and had called their new partner to see if they could spare someone. Looks like I'm their woman.

Even though the place is much farther than I'm used to traveling, I don't mind. After all, I'll be getting payed quite a bit more. I figure I'll be kicking tougher folks than the drunk preppies trying to be intimidating, but I figure I can handle it and I can deffinatly use the extra money. I hope to go to college one day, and I'm saving up. However, I have no clue what the future hold, and a little extra money sure isn't a bad thing in today's society.

I look at the scenery as I pass through. Come to think of it, the scenery isn't to scenic. I pass by buildings with pro and anti mutant graffiti scrolled across the walls, side by side with spray painted gang names and symbols.

Looks like I'm definitely going to be kicking creeps tougher than yuppies out.

Keeping my hands in the pockets of my old jacket, I make my way into the mutant part of the city. It's one of those places that never seems to get out of poverty simply because prejudice far outweighs non-prejudice, yet right in the middle of it, there are a few small businesses. There's a grocery store, gas station, book store, and, of course, the bar.

It's really a surprisingly neat place, considering its surroundings. Though run down, it appears to be doing pretty well, judging from the number of cars in the lot and the people coming and going.

The people going in and out of the doors are of all manners. There are women and men as well as those who have obvious mutation and those who could pass as everyday humans. There are black folks, white folks, even a few blue and green people. There are also people in suits as well as people in leather, and others in clothing so colorful, it's blinding.

Damn, talk about variety. This is definitely going to serve as an interesting night.

As I step into the smokey atmosphere, I'm grateful for my healing factor. That's the only thing that's keeping me from breaking into a fit of coughing. I go up to the bar and wait for the 'tender to get done with the customer.

"You must be the bouncer that other place's lending us," He frowns. "Y're a tiny thing ain't ya?"

I just shrug. "I've been told I'm one'a their toughest."

He shrugs, "Whatevah works."

He reaches a meaty, charcoal black hand out to me. I note the muscular arm it's attached to and the extra finger by his pinky. His eyes are totally white, while his hair is the strangest shade of indigo I've ever seen.

I grasp his hand in greeting, and notice immediately how hard he's squeezing. I don't grimace, as most others would, in fact, I allow a slight grin to curve my lips. I return the grip with as much strength and then some.

The 'tender blinks and eyes my seemingly delicate frame over with somewhat surprised respect. Being what I am makes me stronger than most humans, but I wouldn't be able to beat my friends Colossus or Wolvie in, say, an arm wrestling match.

"I'm Joe."

"HLM, nice ta meet cha. Gonna get someone ta show me around'n alla that?" I ask, releasing his hand as he does mine.

Joe nods, raising an indigo brow at my name.

"Yeah, I'll get Raph ta show ya tha ropes," he turns and shouts into the back, "Yo, Raph! Git yer ass out 'ere! The newbie's 'ere!"

I hide my smirk and then watch as a hulking figure makes its way out of the shadows. I blink as I notice this guy is a one eyed humanoid turtle who wears much the same thing I am, except he wears a red bandana tied over his bald head.

I'd apparently surprised him too because he'd stopped dead in his tracks and was outright staring at me.

"Raph, this's HLM, our bouncer on loan. HLM this's Raph, one a' my regular bouncers."

I nod to Raph, who's one eyed face has taken on a skeptical look.

"Y' sure this ain't some kinda joke, boss?" the turtle asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure! Now show 'er around, I want her out there in an hour."

Raph has no choice but to obey.


About halfway through the tour, I get tired of the looks he keeps shooting me. I stop and cross my arms over my chest.

"All right. I've had enough, What's with the looks? Y' think I'm funny lookin'? Don't say I have somethin' in my teeth 'cause I haven't had anything ta eat yet," I say, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.

He stops and blinks at me. "What're you talkin' about?! I ain't shootin' ya no looks!"

I smirk slightly. "Yeah, whatever. You think I'm not tough enough ta be bouncin' in this place, don't ya?!"

He grumbles something, looking like he's starting to get pissed.

I clench my jaw, struggling to keep my temper in check.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Wull, we don't need any fights. Let's just get this tour over with so we can get this whole friggin' night over with."

He looks me up and down measuringly again, giving me the chance to take in his build and all that.

He's big, as I noted before, around six foot and easily topping 200 pounds. Not an ounce of fat on him; he's solid muscle.

Wonder if he's that big everywhere. Gah, HLM, chickie, get yer mind outa the gutter.

I also note that he's got scars criss-crossing what skin I can see. He also moves with an uncanny grace associated with dancers and martial artists. A real tough one figuring that one out. He ain't the dancing type.

"Uh, yeah, le's go," he breaks the silence, leading me off on the rest of the tour.

Ooh, I think, eyeing him up from behind, sure as hell doesn't hurt to think about it though. Heh heh heh...


Once we start working, Raph and I find out that we make a pretty good team. Outside of each other's names, we know nothing of one another's personal lives. We keep it that way through the night. Having demonstrated our ability to keep a reasonable amount of order, more often than not physically, the patrons of the bar more or less behave themselves.

An hour before close, about six guys bearing t-shirts with the stylized logo of the FOH on them enter the bar.

I frown and subtly send the "watch these guys, they're looking for trouble" signal to Raph.

Though the so called "Friends of Humanity" aren't huge-yet-they still mean trouble. What band of bigots doesn't?

To make a long story short, their entire purpose is to "rid the world of the mutant threat".

Meaning? Well, basically just to blow us "muties" out of the water so they don't have to deal with us any more.

Apparently, Raph doesn't seem to know of them. He raises an eyeridge and nods slightly.

I non-chalantly slide the pair of sunglasses I wear in public back up my nose and subtly watch the six FOH men take a seat at the bar.

After making sure Raph could cover for me for a few moments, I make my way to Joe, repressing an amused grin at the path of the people make for me.

As the Queen of the Morons makes her way to the bar, her faithful subjects part for her like the Red Sea parted for Moses.

I repress a smirk at the thought as Joe comes over to me.

"Yer doin' a hell o' a good job, HLM," is the first thing he says to me.

"Thanks, Joe, but I came over here to warn you about the six newcomers," I tell him in hushed tones.

"They're FOH scum, I've had a few run-ins with 'em," Joe answers, voice just as hushed.

"Oh, ok. Didn't know if ya knew who these thugs were. I'll go tell Raph about 'em. He knows to watch 'em."

Joe nods silently and goes to tend to the newcomers as well as the customers he already has.

As I make my way over to Raph, I hear the shout. "Stupid mutie freak! You made me spill my drink!!"

I twirl and instinctively step to the side to avoid being hit by an extremely delicate looking you man, barely 21, with lavender skin, baby blue eyes and hair, and purple moth wings sprouting from his back who was flung away by the most burly of the group.

I growl softly and leap into action as one of the two bar maids calls 911 and the other sees to the poor moth-boy who lies motionless among the splintered remains of the table he flew into. My shades come off sometime over the duration of the fight. I subdue customer after customer as gently as possible as I struggle to get to the problem makers. I scream in surprise and pain when I turn to face one of them. In his boney hand, he holds a pistol, the weapon of a coward.

The bar had cleared out at the sound of the shot, and the only sound filling the erie silence is the laughter of the boney coward. Indeed he'd shot me point blank, and I'm in agony, hot blood poring over my hand, but it takes far more than that to get rid of this moron.

I grin as I reach my hand out to snatch the gun from him with the speed of a striking snake.

"Surprise, buster! It's bed time!" I shout as I bash him in the face with the butt of the gun.

I got one out of the six down. Raph seems to be dealing with his three well, I don't know where the other two are, but am not surprised when they both attack at the same time.

Shitshitshit, I can feel the pain stoking the rage...

That's my last human thought before the veil of fiery rage descends over my vision and something deep inside snaps.


The rest of the fight I don't remember, but when I woke up, four of the six are torn limb from limb, one is in intensive care, the other is being treated for a broken nose, I have one HELL of a bad headache, and Raph is standing by the table I'm laying on.

"God fuckin' damn it," I murmur, "how many I kill...?"

"Three, had ta knock ya out 'fore ya killed anyone else," Raph answers, respect in his voice, surprise and some fear in his eyes.

"Shit," I murmur, and close my eyes, keeping tears of pain and shame back. I start sitting up, but Raph keeps me down.

"'Ey, stay down, paramedics want a look at ya after they're done wit' blue boy ovah there," he says.

"Eh, I'm ok," I try sitting up again.

"Like hell ya are! Ya got shot at point black an' got the livin' shit beaten outa ya!"

I look up into his eye, and tell him in a serious tone of voice, "I've been through worse."

Brushing his hands off, I sit up and then slowly stand. I'm pretty sore, and a little dizzy, but like I said to Raph, I'd been through worse.

I look down and blush when I feel a cold breeze on my stomach and back.

"HOLY...!" If not for the bandages over what wasn't healed when they were put on, I'd be nude from the waist up. As it is, they BARELY cover what needs to be covered. I swear, if I was to do a jumping jack, I'd be giving anyone left in the bar a free peep show. I blush and cover my chest with my arms.

Raph smirks. "Cold?"

"Hell! Whaddya think?! Gimme my jacket, willya?"

He smirks again and drapes the jacket over my shoulders.

"Thanks." I slide my arms into the sleeves and zip the jacket closed.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Ta give the cops my statement and then home."

"Cops're taken care of, yer in the clear, but I dunno how safe it'd be fer ya ta be leggin' it home this time a night."


"Yeah, FOH're gonna be out 'n gunnin' fer ya, 'n anyway, yer lookin' like hell at the moment, an' any thug'll take ya in the snap o' yer fingers."

"Oh really? What choice do I have?"

"I c'n give ya a ride on mah hog."

"You're just lookin' fer an excuse to have my arms wrapped around you," I tease with a wink.

"Yeah," he admits with a grin, "but it'll still be safer."

"Ok, then."

We head to his bike. It's a wicked looking black and red machine.

"Damn, this thing's nice!"

"Damn strait," Raph answers with a grin as he swings on, "get on behind me and hang on tight."

I grin, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. I could feel his powerful lungs working under his plastron.

Holy shit, he even BREATHS like a martial artist.

We roar off and within the hour, we're in front of my run-down old building.

"This's where ya live?" Raph asks, looking up at my building.

I grin wryly, looking at the dark old building. "Yep," my grin turns into a frown as I notice something on a streetlight lit part of the wall.

"What the fuck?" I murmur to myself as I get a closer look. My left hand presses against my stomach, my right hand flies to my mouth as my eyes widen.

Gasping softly, I stumble back as if hit in the face, bumping into Raph, who had silently come up behind me.

"HLM? What is it?"

I raise a trembling hand and point to the words: "You killed ours, mutie bitch, now it's your turn. -FOH", scrawled in red spray paint.

Suddenly we're surrounded by gunfire.

Instinctively I duck down, becoming as small a target as possible, but I still feel bullets tearing through my flesh.

"SHIT!" I hear Raph shout just before he grabs my arm and signals me to join him in a mad dash to his bike.

He leaps on and as soon as he feels my grip around his middle, he revs his bike and takes off.

"Where we goin'?!"

"My place!"

We drive into a sewer drain and slow down once we're all the way in. Raph looks down, feeling something hot and wet flowing into his lap. By this time, I'm only semi conscious.

He reaches down and takes my badly bleeding hand.

"Holy shit, HLM, yer hand is a wreck," he lets go of my hand and turns to look at me. He catches me before I fall off the bike.

The average human body wouldn't be able to survive the amount of damage that my body has sustained.

As my consciousness fades the rest of the way, I barely hear Raph mutter, "Sensei ain't gonna like me bringin' home another chick..."

Moron Story Index
Part One
Part Three