Star Harbor Nights

The woman known as Webmistress sat ensconced in an immense seat cushioned in black velvet, on a raised platform ringed with heavily muscled and heavily armed men. Symbolically, it was her seat of power... though she spent more time running her criminal empire from her plush bed chambers than she did from this throne room.

Her nude form was covered more in theory than in fact by a dressing gown of purple lace. The room's subdued lighting came from spider-shaped plates in the wall. The only overhead light shown directly upon her throne. Before the chair was a massive computer console, though it was engineered to be attractive as well as functional. Viewed from the front, it would appear to be a wide brass rail around the foremost edge of the dais. From  behind, its elaborately inlaid and bejeweled surface made it look more like a musical instrument from some high-budget space opera than the central hub of a worldwide communications network.

The woman who had just entered the room had a bit more elaborate costume than her employer. Her head was wrapped in a dark purple cowl which exposed her lower face and let her short auburn hair stick out at the top. The eyepieces were red bulges, each segmented into four parts. She wore purple lipstick of exactly the same shade as the cowl and the double-breasted sleeveless jacket below it. Beneath the jacket was a black bodysuit, armored in ways that did nothing to impede its flexibility. Her gloves and boots were purple, flaring out at the opening and with spiky protrusions running along the seams. The shape of a spider was emblazoned across the jacket in black.

On her right hip was a leather holster which contained a combination satellite phone and digital assistant. On her left hip was a one-handed crossbow, minus the cross piece.

"The Tear of St. Just," Spinnerette declared, holding up a glittering blue stone before tossing it towards the seated woman. Its arc would have brought it within an easy arm's reach of the seated woman, though she made no move to reach for it. Instead, two of the burly, barely-dressed men who stood in a ring around her large chair dashed forward, all but colliding with other as they scrambled to stop the gem from hitting the floor. One of them caught it, and held it out to his mistress, a big stupid smile on his face which grew even bigger when she rewarded him with a look of appreciation.

"What have I told you about making me catch things?" Webmistress said to Spinnerette, rolling her eyes.

"You tell me a lot of things... some of which don't pan out. For instance, the Knights of St. Just aren't quite as defunct as your informant lead us to believe," Spinnerette said. "I had to cut that thing out of the stomach of a six-hundred-year-old templar. Fun."

"Well, I hope you washed it first, then," Webmistress said. She rose and turned away from her underling, holding the blue pear-shaped stone up to the light.

"Considering the added difficulty factor, I'd think a little recognition was in order..."

"For what?" Webmistress scoffed softly. "Doing your job? You're a henchwoman, Spinnerette, not a potty-training toddler. I'm not going to lavish you with praise every time you make it through the day without a serious accident. Now, I need you to contact Geppetto and tell him the price is thirty-five million for the Pacific rim job, not twenty-five million. If he balks, tell him the price went up because we've had to suspend operations for other clients to accommodate him. Then get me an appointment with the Technologist... the venom sacs in my fangs seem to be stuck on shuffle," she said, running her tongue along the hollow opening at the bottom of the gleaming black teeth which subconsciously extended down over her natural canines as she thought about them. "It was amusing at first, but it's getting a little tiresome having to make a random outburst to cover for when one of my minions drops dead of a heart attack when I meant to give him the kiss of bliss."

Spinnerette's PDA, which she should have been using to take notes, was still in its place by her right hand. Her left hand held her harpoon-like crossbow. The head of its black bolts was ringed with eight backswept cruelly barbed points which resembled nothing so much as spider legs. Though Spinnerette's whole body trembled with seething rage, her crossbow arm was remarkably steady and calm.

The instant the end of the weapon was steadily lined up with Webmistress's flesh, however, a rather ominous click sounded all around Spinnerette's body.

"And, speaking of tiresome matters, my dear Spinnerette, I've grown tired of your habit of pointing weapons at my back," she said. "I think you'll find that the instant you do, every joint in your suit locks up... except for those in your trigger finger." She whirled around to face her incredulous and panicky lieutenant, her ponderous chest directly in line with the tip of the crossbow bolt. "Do you hear that rising electric whine? You have... oh, I'd say fifteen seconds left now... to pull the trigger before your costume's taser blast automatically discharges inwards. If I were you, I'd make up my mind quickly."

Spinnerette had gone pale and relaxed her grip on the crossbow as much as her locked glove would allow. This did nothing to stop the incapacitating electrical blast which came as promised, in the same instant that her joints conveniently unlocked themselves.

"I do wish you wouldn't make me humiliate you in front of the boys," she cooed. "It's not good for their conditioning to see a woman of power in such a position. Now, you'll be going after the Heart of the Dragon next. It's currently part of a traveling exhibition at the natural history museum in Crescent Bay. You'll take a team of six with you tonight... just as soon as you've cleaned yourself up. It seems you have more in common with a potty-training toddler than I'd assumed."

The fabled silent black helicopters of Department 4B had nothing on the craft that Webmistress's forces used for night deployment. The term "autopilot" didn't begin to do justice to its onboard computer system, which slowed to let the seven dark figures step lightly off onto the museum roof before zooming quietly away. It would return when Spinnerette called for it... though there was a good chance that Webmistress would intercept the command and confirm she had taken the prize first.

A museum job would be a cakewalk after her vicious battle earlier inside the supposedly "abandoned" medieval cloisters. Spinnerette supposed that Webmistress meant this demeaning task as a punishment... not that she cared. She didn't get paid any more for extra-hazardous duties, but she wasn't going to be compensated any less for this walk in the park.

The schematics Webmistress's network had provided showed that the roof itself was not alarmed, and the security system that protected the skylights would be simply enough to bypass. Museums and banks in a capetown tended to rate things like security upgrades low on the priority list when making up their budgets. Why pay good money when there's a town full of do-gooders willing to do it for free?

Then she spotted a wrinkle... it seemed somebody else had the same idea. The skylight was actually a large geodesic dome... one of the glass triangles had already been removed, leaving a space easily wide enough for a person to fit through.

She touched a hidden stud where the cowl covered her ear. There was the faintest hint of a hiss to let her know the communicator was online.

"Spinnerette here... the job just got more complicated," she said.

"Complicated how?" Webmistress asked, managing to fit a whole sentence's worth of inflection into that single final word.

"As in we're not the only uninvited guests at this party," Spinnerette said. She crept over to the opening as she spoke softly. There was something attached to one of the metal bars, something gleaming. "Somebody else has already compromised the rooftop access..." She trailed off, staring.

"It seems to me that if somebody else has taken the trouble to disable the security for you, then your job has become easier rather than harder," Webmistress said. "Just see that they don't make off with my diamond."

The communication line went dead, but Spinnerette hardly noticed or cared. She was staring at a piece of silvery metal in the form of a crouching cat, its claws latched into place around the edge of the triangular hole. A black climbing rope trailed down from it. It was not merely securely lodged in place, but locked, as if the silver substance had been poured and molded in the perfect shape to cling to that spot exactly.

"Bast," Spinnerette said, a cruel look playing across her face. "Alright... it's about time I had a little payback. We're going in boys, and it's weapons free... shoot to kill."

The six thugs stared at her blankly.

"What?" she asked.

"Mistress said this isn't wet works," one of them said.

"We're not supposed to use lethal force against women," another said.

"Am I or am I not in charge of this operation?" Spinnerette demanded. The six shuffled, looking down at the rooftop beneath their feet. "Oh, fine," she said. "We'll do it this way, if you're going to be spineless... you can stay here and keep this entrance covered, in the event that I don't run into her. She left her swing line here, so she obviously intends to come back out this way. If that happens, detain her... using whatever force you need to... and make sure she doesn't have the diamond. Okay?"

The muscle men nodded eagerly in agreement, pleased to be given orders that they could obey.

"Right," Spinnerette said. She gave the metal cat a strong kick with the heel of her boot. It didn't budge, so she climbed inside, grabbed hold of the line and slid down into the museum.

They kept the inside lit up even at night, though Spinnerette was certain that the exhibits were all alarmed within an inch of their lives. As she made her way to the gallery where the gem collection was on display, she kept her eyes pealed for any security measures, human or otherwise, as well as a certain familiar shadow.

She caught a glimpse at the edge of her peripheral vision of a figure hiding behind a marble column. She whirled, already aiming her magnetic bow at the opponent she saw in her mind's eye. She loosed her bolt... but instead of going between Bast's eyes, it went just over the head of a shorter, obviously much younger woman to bury itself four inches deep in the stone wall behind her. She had the same rich, dark coloration as Spinnerette's hated foe, but her facial features were somehow more aristocratic. Her outfit... tight black jeans and a black fitted top, with her hair bound back by a headband... hardly qualified as a heroic costume. There was no mistaking her crouching stance, though. It was way too distinctive... it had to be hereditary.

"What are you supposed to be, Kid Bast?" Spinnerette asked derisively.

"Call me... Sphinx," the girl said, stepping out into the open.

"Cute. Does mommy know you're playing dress up with her stuff?"

"What mommy doesn't know can't hurt me," Sphinx said. "Who are you supposed to be? The Amazing Lawsuit Lady?"

"As if you don't know... I'm your mother's worst enemy."

"You're the Baron?" the child asked. "You don't look German."

"Spinnerette," the villainess said, exasperated.

"Sorry?"

"We fought on top of an enclosed ski lift in the Alps... she kicked me off, I vowed revenge... well, I'm sure you've heard the story."

"Never came up," Sphinx said.

"I guess your mother doesn't talk about her job much."

"Only all the time."

"Well, this is fun," Spinnerette said. "But I've got a diamond to steal. I suppose you're going to try to stop me?"

"Uh, not really," Sphinx said. "Unless you're talking about this one in particular."

She held out a gloved hand. Spinnerette knew those gloves... she'd been cut by the morphing metal claws hidden in the tips. Sphinx's fingers were shorter than her mothers and her hands and wrists wider with baby fat. As the gloves were intended to fit like... well, gloves... they looked awkward on Sphinx.

She opened her hand, displaying a sparkling red heart-cut stone nestled in her palm.

"The Heart of the Dragon," she said. "World's largest fancy red. Pretty, isn't it?

"That's a pebble," Spinnerette said derisively. "I've been chasing huge diamonds down all week. That can't be more than twenty carats."

"It's actually only sixteen point three," Sphinx said. "But that's more than three times the size of the next biggest... maybe you can go after that one instead, since this one's already spoken for."

She closed her fist and pulled it away.

"What are you going to do with a diamond?"

"Sell it," Sphinx said. "I need some better gear, and my parents won't give me any until I turn eighteen."

"I'll make you a deal," Spinnerette said. "You give me the stone, and I'll let you turn eighteen."

"My mother's old and slow," Sphinx said. She raised her other hand and flexed the fingers... then flexed them again. The second time, the silver claws obligingly popped out. "If she could kick your butt, so can I ."

"I'm shaking in my boots," Spinnerette said.

"If I had to wear boots with that flaring folded over pixie-top thing, I'd shake every time I put them on," Sphinx said.

Spinnerette growled and stumbled forward, deceptively clumsily. Sphinx laughed and danced aside, swinging her claws at Spinnerette's exposed face. She was counting on a move like that, though, and caught the ill-fitting glove at the wrist. Her momentum carried her into a roll, and she came up facing her opponent a few yards away.

"And the glove comes off," Spinnerette said, holding up her prize.

"Give that back!"

"What are you going to do, tell your mother?" Spinnerette mocked, laughing. "You know, I was thinking I'd propose a trade... but now I'm not so sure I will. A trophy like this is priceless."

"Come on," Sphinx said desperately. "You have to trade me... you'e got to be after the stone on the Webmistress's orders."

"So you have heard of me, you despicable little minx," Spinnerette said. "Toss me the diamond and I'll give you back your glove."

"You toss me the glove," Sphinx said. "I'm the hero, so I'm more trustworthy."

"You're stealing a diamond."

"So are you."

"Fine," Sphinx said. She held up the stone. "Count of three?"

Spinnerette nodded.

"One," Sphinx said.

"Two," Spinnerette said.

"Three," they said together, each tossing their prizes up in a high arc. The glove, being less aerodynamic, went wide, but as soon as it was clear of Spinnerette Sphinx jumped for the Heart of the Dragon. Spinnerette flew at her, tackling her. The fell to the ground together, rolling over. Spinnerette saw the red stone falling through the air... it was going to pass right by her face. She lunged for it with her mouth, catching it just as Sphinx elbowed her in the stomach.

She swallowed convulsively.

"Sorry to eat and run," she said, pushing off from the ground and setting off across the gallery. She made a bee line for the nearest fire exits. At this point, an alarm would no longer be her problem. As soon as she was out of sight of the museum, she'd hop on the line and apprise the idiots on the roof of the situation.

"I don't see a diamond," Webmistress said when Spinnerette returned to her throne room.

Spinnerette contracted her stomach, forcing it up. She spat it at her employer's feet.

"There's your stupid rock," she said.

"Really, Spinnerette, this is juvenile even for you," Webmistress said, eyeing the blood red gem disgustedly.

"Heat... heat of the moment thing," Spinnerette said, coughing a bit.

"Not that," Webmistress said. "What I meant was..." The archvillainess raised her foot and brought the spiked heel down on the stone, crushing it to powder. "Aren't you a little bit old to be eating paste?"